Sleeping Beauty
by Zorra del Cielo
Summary: Batgirl is discovering that not everything in life comes easily. Luckily she’s also discovering the benefits of true friends. But Joker has nefarious plans for Gotham! Can Tim and Cass find a way to break his “spell” before it’s too late? Complete
1. Fairy Tale

Disclaimer: Ok, I don't own Batgirl. I don't own Robin. I don't own Batman, Oracle, Nightwing, or any of the aforementioned character's "secret" identities. In fact, I don't even own the Joker or any other DC characters who might randomly pop into this story for a visit! Come to think of it, DC owns everything! (I think they might even own _me_! I've certainly sent _them_ enough money over the years)

So please don't sue! You won't get much, besides, I'm just using my amazing powers of creativity in homage of the amazing people who really _do_ own everything!

Author's note: Please review! I am a review monster who eats, drinks, and breathes reveiws and who cannot survive without them! :)

Now.....on with the show!

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**Sleeping Beauty**

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a princess. She was the most exquisitely beautiful princess to have ever lived and...

_Thump!_

...well, maybe she wasn't the _most_ beautiful princess who ever lived. But she was fairly pretty, and incredibly kind hearted. She had never ever in her life hurt even the tiniest insect, and would never dream of doing so.

_Thwack!_

Ok, so maybe she had hurt some people, but it was surely in self-defense.

_Crash!_

Or not. Anyway, the princess lived in a gorgeous castle in a land of beauty and light which was swarming with knight-errants...

_Bang! _

Maybe it wasn't so bright...

_Pow! _

...and it's true that there may have been a shortage of knight-errants, but...

_Smack!_

A prince! A prince!! All fairy tales have to have a handsome prince for the princess to fall in love with!

_Crunch!_

Cassandra Cain, defender of justice, current bearer of the dark mantle of Batgirl, and protégé of the Dark Knight himself, stood in the middle of an alley, surrounded by unconscious thugs and sighed deeply. Of all the silly ideas she had been dreaming up, that last one had to be the most far-out. Cassandra had had exactly two real "encounters" with members of the opposite sex. Only two boys whom she had felt any kind of interest in at all. One had been Superboy, Connor Kent, who hadn't returned her feelings. In fact, he had been nearly scared to death of her when she went to visit him. Besides, he was in love with Wonder Girl.

Though, truth be told, she really hadn't felt anything special for him anyway. She had just been discovering boys and he had been a convenient distraction from the man who had really held all her attention.

Tai'Darshan. A meta-human terrorist who had ended up sacrificing himself to save her and countless others from Dr. Death's formula. Cass sighed again as she set to work tying up the gang members who, until a moment ago, had been planning to go after a rival gang with a most disturbing array of weapons. One of the gang members moved a little, and groaned.

_Whack!_

He returned to his heretofore unconscious state. Maybe she didn't _deserve_ a boyfriend. She had, after all, done unspeakable things when she was with Cain. Flashing lights and the sounds of sirens told her it was time to return to the shadows. She melted into the night and watched to make sure the GCPD found her little present. Once the perps were in custody, she continued her patrol, avoiding contact with Batman and any other operatives who may be in the city.

She didn't know why, but tonight she just felt like being alone. The fact that she usually enjoyed her rather solitary existence didn't make tonight any less strange. For while she typically was happy to be by herself, tonight she desperately wanted to avoid any company.

It was all Babs' fault. Cass shrugged away the thought that laying blame for her current mood with the woman behind Oracle was highly unfair. It was true, in a way, so how could it be wrong? It was better than blaming herself, anyway. As the first touch of morning blush stole across the horizon, Batgirl slipped silently into the apartment so recently provided for her. She took no notice of the pile of neat laundry that had not been there the previous evening, nor of the suddenly sparkling floor where before there had been mud tracked across it.

Alfred had been here. His presence was a constant, and though he had occasionally attempted to point out to her that he did, in fact, endeavor to keep everything tidy, she normally just assumed that when things got dirty they would clean themselves.

She was ready to fall into bed... ready to sleep off the night's exertions... when she saw them. _Them_! Those horrible objects responsible for her black mood all night. The foul articles that had brought such confused ramblings upon her. The evil materials forced upon her by an obviously ill-meaning Barbara Gordon... children's books.

It wasn't enough, Cass reflected irascibly, that she hadn't been able to speak or understand spoken words for the first sixteen years of her life. It wasn't enough, even, that, once she had been given the gift of gab, she had had to fight to regain her ability to "read" people's body language. No. Now that she could finally talk _and_ fight...now she had to learn to read. Books. Written words. All of it foreign to her, yet so important in the course of everyday life, that she was forced to master this art as well.

She hadn't planned on it. She had thought life was going along quite well. She had Oracle to interpret any written clues important in her crime-fighting endeavors. And everything else had been taken care of by Bruce. She had no need of money, no desire to go out in the "real" world, and so no need to read.

Simple.

Except it wasn't as simple as she had thought. It had all started when Oracle had sent her to defeat a robot in the library. Who cared if a bunch of books got destroyed? They were just books. Not people. But the librarian and Babs had passionately argued against this belief, causing Cass to have the first doubts about herself. Babs had called her stupid. She had _felt_ stupid. Then the gang wars had erupted and the whole of Gotham City had been swallowed up.

The next clue that she was in any way deficient had been inside the high school. Tim's high school. They had all spread out, gone to stop the terrorists and also to find Tim, to see if he could fill them in. Luckily he had been able to. Nightwing had encountered Tim first, but Cass hadn't been too far away and she had heard part of their exchange.

"And the Galante thugs retreated down into the pool locker rooms. Well, here, you can read my notes as well as I can."

It wasn't much, but it was enough. Cass had been forced to admit that if she had been the first to find Tim, she would have had to make him read all the notes to her, costing valuable time. This, combined with Oracle's disapproval, had finally broken through.

Cassandra needed to learn to read. And she needed to learn _fast_. She had tried, she really had, before everything had happened, but she could never seem to get the shapes of the letters. Every time she looked at them it was as if she were seeing them for the first time. She supposed it had something to do with the way she was raised, like her not being able to talk.

Or maybe the guy who "fixed" her brain so she _could_ talk had messed something else up. She didn't know, and it wasn't really important. All that mattered was that she had to read. Perhaps this knowledge, this determination alone made the difference, but somehow this time things were different. It still was taking her forever to learn words, but she had finally learned the letters. In the process, though, some strange things were beginning to happen to her.

She had found herself strangely attracted to children's shows. They didn't make her feel stupid. She hadn't wanted anyone to know that she was trying to read, so she had snuck back into the library late one night and encountered the same librarian who had helped defeat the Mars Project robot. She had explained quite briefly that a "friend" of hers was trying to learn to read.

The librarian was not deceived.

Batgirl had returned home that night with a library card, of all things, and a bag full of tapes and videos aimed at young children learning to read. Everything had been going along swimmingly, until Babs decided to pay her an unannounced visit.

Cass sighed as she pushed the books off her bed and sat down to remove her boots. She supposed that Babs had been feeling badly about calling her stupid. Well, in fact, she knew this was the case, as Babs had arrived that day with apologies on her lips and the intention of taking Cass out to lunch. But the learning aids had betrayed her as they had sat there, spread out over the floor. Faced with the prospect of interrogation on the scale of the Spanish Inquisition, Cassandra had quickly admitted that she was trying to learn to read.

"Cass, that's wonderful!" was _not_ the reaction she had been looking for. "Let me help" was even less welcome. But, as every super-hero in the world knows, one simply cannot say "no" to the mighty Oracle.

And so Cass had given up the idea of learning in secret, had admitted how far along she was, and then, horror of horrors, she had accepted Babs' gift of a set of children's books. They were easy reading, made for beginners like herself. But it had been her first exposure to the world of "happily ever after" and she found that she was unable to get certain thoughts out of her head.

Stupid books.

Having removed her costume and changed into some more comfortable clothes, Cass went in search of breakfast. Or was it dinner? She didn't know and really didn't take a lot of time to think about it. She wanted food. So she ate food. Easy. She ate food and watched T.V. That was her life outside of Batgirl. And she liked it that way.

Except...

Except she couldn't read and recently she had begun to want to meet a... a... well, if not a prince, then at least a _boy._ And how was she going to do that when she couldn't even read a street sign or a menu? She flipped off the television and flopped into bed. Being a late-night super hero had some benefits, she mused briefly as her head hit the pillow, she was always tired enough to fall swiftly into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was the smell that woke her. A pungent aroma of... coffee? Cass pried one eye open, the rest of her remaining motionless, yet completely alert, as she registered the presence of _someone_ in her apartment. She stifled a groan when she saw who it was.

"Good morning!" the evil Babs was back. And it looked like she had plenty of new torture devices with her.

"Ungh!" Cass rolled over and covered her head with the blanket. No way, no how! No more reading lessons! She would run away and be just Batgirl again. She would...

"Wake u-up!" Babs actually had the audacity to tug Cass' covers off of the bed. Cass rolled off the other side, coming up in a half-crouched fighting stance. Barbara completely ignored her obviously hostile body language and rolled over to the table, chattering nonsense to give Cass time to wake up completely.

She shouldn't have bothered. Cass was plenty awake, and...well... even if she wasn't, she was _sure_ that any more reading lessons with Babs would end in one of them bleeding and quite hopefully unconscious.

"Did you get to Snow White last night?" Cass considered the window, gauging the distance, the angle, and the fact that it was locked and tried to determine if Babs could catch her before she escaped or if she should rather simply run into the window as hard as she could in the hopes that the impact with the bomb-and-bullet-proof glass would knock her out.

"No." Take _that,_ Miss Know-it-all. But if Barbara could read minds, she let the thought pass unchallenged.

"Ok, good. You can read it to me." Cass scowled, but Babs seemed unfazed. Cass knew she was only the second-best glarer in Gotham... Batman, of course, could out-glare anyone! But as she found herself being pulled to the table and seated in front of a colorful storybook, Cass wondered if even Batman's patented Bat-Glare (capital letters!) could stop an Oracle on a mission.

"..." She felt an unfamiliar sensation snaking up her chest and realized, with a strangely detached air, that it was panic. She was trapped. Trapped! _Let me out_!!!!

"Now," Babs sounded so pleased with herself, "let's hear it." Cass looked down at the bright cover and saw the letters begin their familiar morph into the unknown. She took a deep breath.

"Snow White." She peeked over at Babs, only to find her frowning.

"Read the whole title, Cassandra." Darn. So much for that idea. She stared at the words for a minute. Then two. She could hear the second hands ticking away the seconds and a cold sweat broke out along her brow.

"Cass?" Though there may have been a concerned note in her voice, Cass didn't notice. The whole apartment seemed to be closing in on her. She jumped up, suddenly unable to breathe. "Cass, are you ok?" Barbara was definitely worried now. But Cass simply stumbled away from the table, fumbled with the door, and fled out into the street.

"O-kay..." Babs was left wondering what had gotten into her young friend.

* * *

To be continued...


	2. Close Encounters

Cassandra didn't know where she was going. She just needed to get _away._ What had happened back there? Why had the letters betrayed her like that? She was so tired of being stupid! She ran rather blindly for a few blocks before coming to a stop to gather her bearings. She recognized the little café where she and Babs would have lunch together sometimes. She sighed again. She didn't know what had gotten into her lately. Babs was her friend. And only trying to help. She wandered into the nearby park and plopped down on a shady bench, lost in thought.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there but suddenly she found herself being jolted out of her reverie by something small, hard, and round slamming into the side of her head. Shaking off the sting, she glared down at the softball lying innocently in the dirt beside the bench.

"Hey! You ok?" Cass turned and looked blankly at the boy who had suddenly ran up to her. He was wearing a catcher's mitt and an annoyed expression, though why, she couldn't fathom. "I _told _you to look out, didn't I?" he muttered disgustedly, bending down to retrieve the runaway ball. Cass honestly couldn't answer, as she had been too preoccupied to hear him even if he had shouted. She squashed the inclination to apologize... after all, _she_ was the one who'd been hit in the head... and the boy shook his head and ran back to his game. Cass stood, thinking perhaps Babs would have left by now and she could have some peace and quiet.

"You _sure_ you're ok?" She turned, surprised at the familiar voice. "Oh! Um, hey Cass..." Timothy Drake, the third and current Robin, obviously hadn't recognized the girl who'd gotten conked on the head as his colleague and sometimes partner.

"Tim." Cass nodded in greeting, mentally resigning herself to remaining in the park a while longer. His body language told her that he felt like talking. And Tim was an ok guy...he didn't make her feel stupid and he was a pretty good fighter, two attributes that ranked high on her list. He fidgeted for a moment and she sighed. "Sit." She demonstrated as she spoke, returning to her previous position on the bench.

"Um... sorry about Tyrone, he's ok most of the time, but he takes his sports _way_ too seriously."

"Not your fault." Cass never had understood the tendency to apologize for things one hadn't done.

"Nah, I know. But still...I don't usually hang with them, outside of school that is, but it was a nice day and they needed a pitcher... of course then Jace came and he took over for me, so I was just sitting on the bench..." she tuned him out, revising her earlier favorable impression of him. He talked too much. She supposed, if that was his biggest fault, that she should be more lenient... after all, Tim was a nice guy. Sweet. And he obviously felt bad about the fact that his friends, or at least one of them, were jerks.

In truth, she really didn't care. She knew that other guy's actions weren't Tim's fault, and she wouldn't hold it against him. But if he felt the need to apologize and clear his conscience, she supposed she could let him.

"Cass?" Oops. She had tuned him out _too_ well. What did he want? Had he asked her something? She blinked at him, trying desperately to find something to say. "Are you _sure_ that ball didn't hit you too hard? Rattle your brain around a bit?" His tone was light, teasing, but his body language _screamed_ unease. She smiled to reassure him.

"I'm fine. Just...distracted." She wasn't sure it was the best word, preoccupied would be better, or maybe frustrated, but it was still hard sometimes to make the words she wanted to convey actually come out of her mouth. He seemed to understand, though.

"Anything I can help you with?" She cocked her head in surprise. Not that he had offered... Tim was too nice _not_ to try to help...but because he seemed sincere. The last time the two of them had spoken he had been rather short with her, giving the impression that he didn't like her. Of course, it had been shortly after he had quit being Robin, and right after he discovered that Stephanie, his supposed girlfriend, had stolen the identity for herself. Looking back, Cass supposed it would make sense that he lashed out at her.

Of course, then Stephanie had been killed and it had hit Tim hard. The second death of a friend of his in a short time...everyone in the Bat-family had been concerned. He had thrown himself into his work, pushing himself harder than ever, perhaps in an attempt to punish himself, or perhaps just to numb the pain, no one really knew. Though it had been a few months since Stephanie's death, everyone in Gotham's vigilante community was still adjusting.

"Not really." She answered after a long pause, realizing he was still waiting. Yet he didn't seem appeased by her short answer. His gaze was intent, probing. She pulled a face as she recognized the futility of trying to avoid this conversation.

"You sure? I can be a good listener." She had to bite back a laugh at that. He may be a good listener, she didn't know, by normal standards, but since she had lived nearly her entire life as a mute, she felt that she held the prize for such a title. Besides, she wasn't sure she could put all her worries into words. She opened her mouth to try to explain but Tim suddenly cut her off, standing and pulling her to her feet.

"Come on. We can do this over lunch. It's easier with food!" He threw her a cocky grin and she smiled agreeably in return. Some of her tension left; it was hard not to relax at his easy manner. Her stomach rumbled its assent and she was surprised to realize that she hadn't had anything to eat all day.

"Ok." Besides, perhaps this would give her a chance to figure out what exactly she was going to say to him once he began asking questions again. It wasn't until they reached a small, but popular, fast food restaurant that she had never been to that she felt the first wave of panic. How could she have forgotten?

She fretted silently as Tim scanned the menu, making his selections and stepping up to order. As he turned to her she clenched damp palms into fists to keep them from trembling. Would her defect be shown to all? Perhaps he, too, had some ability to read people, or maybe her face simply betrayed her panic, because his eyes widened and he turned back to the counter with a quick, "she'll have the same."

Neither said anything as they waited for the food, nor as they wove through the sea of tables to an unoccupied booth in a corner far away from other customers. By the time they actually sat down, Cass' nerves were strung so tightly she thought they would snap. Bats seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her stomach, removing any previous inclinations towards hunger. She sat stiffly as Tim passed her her hamburger and began to unwrap his own.

"I can't read." She blurted it out just as Tim moved to take the first bite of his sandwich. He blinked and slowly lowered it to the tray.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just forgot. Otherwise I would have made sure you knew what you wanted before ordering." Oh dear. He thought she was accusing him of something.

"No. I mean...yes, but not..." Well, heck. This wasn't working.

"Cass, what's wrong?" the concern in his voice was almost her undoing, but she took a deep breath, determined to get through this with _some_ dignity.

"That _is_ what's wrong. Why I was in the park today. Why I...I had to leave, see?" He didn't see, and she sighed. "Babs was in the apartment. She wants to... to help." Comprehension lit his eyes but before he could say anything she rushed on. "Babs thinks she can...can _teach_ me... that she can force the words into my head. I _want_ to learn. I've tried. But... but I think my brain... it doesn't work." She tapped her head with her finger to indicate that her brain was broken.

"I'm sure it's not that it doesn't _work_..." he began carefully, "it's just that learning takes ti..."

"_NO_!" she leaned forward, stressing the word, frustrated that he didn't understand. That she couldn't get the words out right. "Don't you see? I've _tried_. I try and try and try. I..." she slowed, taking a deep breath, "I'm just stupid." She finished bitterly.

"Cass!" Tim burst out, surprised at the depth of feelings in the mysterious girl across from him. "You're _not_ stupid! How can you say that?! You are one of the most intelligent people I know! You...You...you can _read_ people. You learned how to speak and understand English in a matter of months after a lifetime without any language at all! I know..." he held up his hand to stop her when she tried to interrupt, "that meta-guy messed with your head. But he only gave you the ability to understand... _you_ spent the effort and the time to learn how to get the words he put in your head _out._"

"But..."

"No buts! You also have a unique _evening_ job," he looked at her meaningfully, "that requires extreme intelligence, discretion, honor, and self control." He stopped for breath and Cass considered his words. Now that the pressure to read had been taken off she remembered how much progress she _had_ been making. She _had_ been able to read before Babs had showed up and insisted on putting her on the spot. Maybe not well, but she had at least known the letters. She sighed and smiled at him.

"Ok." He raised an eyebrow in question, but smiled back, recognizing that her dark mood had passed.

* * *

"You haven't heard anything?" Barbara Gordon sighed, frustrated. She wasn't sure what had gotten into Cassandra lately. She had visited her that morning, looking forward to helping Cass learn to read. As a former librarian with a photographic memory, Babs had found books to hold a special place in her life. As Oracle, the "go-to" girl for the heroes of the world, she knew that books could give crucial information. She just wanted to help Cass so that the younger girl could experience the wonder of reading. She didn't understand why it was taking Cass so long.

"Ok. Yeah, I'm sure she's fine." She switched off the connection and leaned back in her chair. If she were being truthful, she supposed that she also felt a bit guilty. She had pushed Cass away inadvertently, calling her stupid in a fit of panic when the library had been in danger. When she had seen the lessons on her floor she hadn't stopped to think. She had just leapt at the chance to make amends. She thought it could be some quality time together... heaven knows that they hadn't seen as much of each other since Cass moved to the cave, and then the apartment, as they had when Cass had actually lived in the clock tower. But something was bothering the young hero, and Babs intended to find out what.

A soft click snapped her out of her reverie, and she reached instinctively for her escrima sticks. It was Cass. Babs relaxed but remained alert, scanning the other girl quickly for injury or distress. She looked tired, but otherwise all right.

"Cass! Where have you been!?" She realized too late that she sounded like a fussy parent, and winced, waiting for the explosion of righteous indignation sure to erupt. But Cass just shrugged, putting a take-out bag away in the refrigerator.

"Out." Babs rolled her eyes but refrained from demanding a more descriptive answer. Cass hesitated in the kitchen for a moment, unsure of where she stood after running out on her friend. Babs' body language indicated concern, mild annoyance, but not any deep anger. Cass relaxed a bit. She moved to the couch and flipped on the TV. Babs rolled over, her expression becoming more intent.

"Cass, I think we need to talk." Cass shrugged. She had talked enough with Tim today. She didn't want to talk again. But she supposed Babs deserved an apology, if not an explanation.

"Sorry." At Babs' blank look she reiterated, "I'm...sorry. For this morning. Didn't mean to leave like that." As no more explanation seemed forthcoming, Babs decided a little prod wouldn't be amiss.

"Cass, what's wrong? What happened this morning?" her friend glared at her, but, as usual, it went unnoticed.

"Noth..." she reconsidered. Babs would fight it, but maybe if she just told her that she didn't want help learning to read, she would let her do it her own way. "Actually, I..." but how to tell her? She looked out the window at the setting sun. Babs probably wouldn't let her escape as Batgirl until she gave up the whole story. She sighed.

"What?"

"I didn't want...I don't..." she looked over at Babs and took a deep breath. "When you found out I was learning to read you came and took over. Made it harder. I... I can't do it with other people around." She wasn't sure if she was getting her point across, but Babs looked thoughtful.

"I'm sorry, Cassandra. I guess I thought it would be fun; some time for us to spend together. I didn't realize how hard it was for you. You should have said something." Cass relaxed, Babs wasn't a horrible monster after all.

"We could...eat." Cass glanced over at the refrigerator. She had regained her appetite after her chat with Tim and had devoured her hamburger and fries in record time. Tim had helped her with the menu as they sat in the booth and then she had ordered some more food to go. Surprisingly, once she had gotten her fears off her chest, the letters had come back to her and she had been able to recognize some of the words on her own.

"Eat?" Babs' followed her glance and assumed she meant right away.

"No." Cass smiled, reading Babs easily, "to spend...time with each other." Babs frowned a little, then her face eased into a smile as she understood.

"I think we could do that." The two women sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Cass stood, intending to suit up. Babs rolled herself towards the door, throwing back over her shoulder, "tomorrow, then?" Cass nodded, smiling. She heard the door close and a few minutes later she watched from her perch on the windowsill as Babs' custom SUV drove off towards the clock tower. Oracle was returning to her post for the evening, just as Batgirl was ready to fly.

* * *

Sirens. Flashing lights. All the signs of an emergency needing the assistance of a super hero. Batgirl crouched on a gargoyle, watching the scene unfold beneath her. Flames erupted from the windows of the building across the street. She wasn't sure what the building was, maybe an apartment complex, but only minutes ago Batman had left her on the rooftop with strict instructions not to move unless he contacted her. He had then melted into the shadows, entering the apartment and going after _him_.

The Joker. Had it really only been a few days ago that she and Babs had agreed to put aside their silly feud about Cass' ability, or lack thereof, to read? She waited impatiently, chafing against Batman's order that she remain out here. She could be down there _helping_. Another explosion rocked the building and she tensed, preparing to throw discretion to the wind and go rescue her mentor.

"Batgirl." Hearing the warning in his voice she turned. As she thought, he stood behind her, cape singed, but otherwise no worse for the wear. She waited, knowing he would tell her what he wanted her to know. "It was a decoy." The frustration in his tone mirrored her own. She noticed that he clutched something in his hand, a clue, no doubt, but he didn't say any more.

"Guys, I'm picking up a report of armed robbery at the Gotham City Trust and Credit over on 25th." Oracle's voice broke through the silence. There was a tension in her voice that wasn't normally there, and Cass knew it was because the Joker was on the loose. "Four armed men, no costumes..." she clarified that it wasn't related to their current hunt.

"Go." He motioned for Batgirl to take this call... she was being dismissed. She nodded curtly, throwing out a line and swinging off, but silently fumed about being sent to "babysit" a bank. Did Batman not think she could handle the Joker?! As she neared her destination, though, logic interceded. Of course. He would be inclined to send his partners away if at all possible. After Stephaine. After Jason. Not that she felt that she was going to make the same mistakes as the deceased heroes...she could probably take on the Joker by herself! But she knew he had his reasons and she supposed she could respect them.

The Gotham City Trust and Credit was dark. Silent. Batgirl hesitated as she landed on the rooftop of the café across the street. If there was an armed robbery going on, where was everybody?

"Batgirl?" she spun, startled at the soft question. Robin was crouched behind an exhaust vent, binoculars dangling from his fingers.

"Oracle said there was a robbery..." she trailed off. It didn't make sense. The report had to come from somewhere. Yet there were no police cars, no blaring alarms. Nothing.

"Yeah, I heard. I thought I'd check it out since I was in the vicinity."

"Well?" she demanded impatiently.

"Well... I don't know where Babs got her info. There's no one there. I've been here five minutes and there's been no movement, no activity of any kind."

"Decoy?" she thought of the fire a few blocks away and decided that if this _was_ a decoy, it was pretty lame.

"Yeah, maybe." But he sounded uncertain. Cass shrugged.

"Let's check it out." Robin looked down again and frowned.

"I don't know, it could be a trap. Maybe we should call Oracle and see..." he was cut off by an explosion and a scream. Batgirl launched into action with Robin seconds behind her. She flew through the window of the bank, covering her head as she crashed through the unbroken glass. She was up and surveying the scene as Robin landed lightly behind her.

"Look!" he pointed to a pile of bodies. Four men lay sprawled on the floor, either unconscious or dead, as the flames crept closer. It looked as though they had tried to bust open the vault and it had backfired. Literally. The two young heroes sprung into action, pulling the men out of harm's way. As she was pulling the last one through the window a movement caught her eye. She couldn't make out a form, but a shadow was moving through the smoke and the flames.

"Robin..." she didn't get the chance to finish, as something small and hard flew out of the shadows, striking her in the head. She fell to one knee, a hand at her temple, trying to shake off the dizziness caused by the impact.

"Batgirl!" Robin dropped his burden a few feet away from the bank's outer wall and rushed towards her. He had just reached her, placing a hand on her shoulder to help her up, when an eerie laugh floated out of the smoking building. "Joker!" the name came out almost unconsciously, his hand flying to his belt for a weapon. Batgirl looked up as the man emerged, cackling wildly.

"Why, if it isn't the little bird-brain himself! Hee hee heeee!" he did a funny little jig and then stopped as he noticed Batgirl. "What's this? Ooo! It's two-for-one night in the big city tonight!" More shadows began to move, morphing into henchmen, at least twelve. Her head still ringing, Batgirl struggled to stand, prepared to fight. Robin had already taken something out of his utility belt, but as she tensed for combat he lay a restraining hand on her arm.

"No." it was spoken so softly she almost didn't hear, and she certainly didn't understand. But Robin's body language was tense, too tense. He didn't want her to fight. Why? "We need to regroup. He's got a plan... we need backup." She nodded her understanding. She had never met the Joker face to face, but she had seen plenty of pictures and heard enough to know no one underestimated him.

Unfortunately the nodding movement caused her to stumble dizzily for a second. With grim determination Robin tossed whatever it was he had hidden in his hand at both the Joker and his henchmen. Clouds of smoke billowed out, knockout gas erupting to cover them.

"Come on!" she felt strong hands grab her around the waist and then Robin's grapple gun exploded outwards, sending out a tether to pull them to safety.

"No! Come back! You idiots! You let them escape!" Batgirl didn't hear the rest of the Joker's ranting. She felt a strange sense of vertigo and momentarily noted Robin's shocked face as the darkness closed in around her. Before she completely succumbed, though, she heard Robin's voice, both in person and over the comm, calling for help.

* * *

To be continued...


	3. Cave In

"There, now. Everything's going to be just fine." The crisp British accent could only belong to one person. Alfred. Bruce's butler in name, but so much more in truth. Cass blinked open her eyes to reveal the Batcave underneath Wayne Manor. Her head hurt, a dull ache, and she struggled to remember what had happened. With a gasp it all came back to her and she struggled to sit up.

"Miss Cassandra! I must insist..." Alfred hurried over, intent on making her lie back down, but she was too quick for him. She slipped from the medical bed and onto the cold floor of the cave. Unfortunately this made her head spin and she ended up clutching the bed for support as Alfred reached her side. "There, you see? Now, back into bed with you." She ignored him, knowing he hadn't the strength to force her back into the bed.

"I...hafta..." she fought for words as she swallowed a wave of nausea. "Haff...have to...help." Alfred had taken over the job of supporting her, one arm around her waist, the other holding her own arm draped across his shoulders, but at this he stiffened.

"Absolutely not! You're in no condition to..." he broke off as she forced herself upright, standing without aid, indicating that she was well enough. He simply looked at her and she discovered where Batman had learned some of his intimidating techniques. She closed her eyes tightly, willing the room to stop spinning.

"See? I'm...fine." She didn't see him roll his eyes or pick up a small cylinder.

"Be that as it may, Miss Cassandra, Master Bruce gave me _strict_ instructions that you were not to go out again tonight. I'm sorry." His voice softened at the last, and she turned, hearing the threat it implied. But she was too slow, her reflexes delayed, and she felt the cool mist brush against her cheek carrying her into unconsciousness.

She had been right in supposing him unable to _force_ her into the bed, resisting. But, though he may be of a more advanced age, he was in surprisingly good shape and she didn't weigh much. Body fat was not a common trait among Batman's clan.

She woke some time later to the soft clicking of a keyboard. She carefully sat up, testing her equilibrium, and was pleased to discover that the whatever had effected her so was no longer making any impact on her system. She moved quickly into the main room, deciding to forego taking retribution against Alfred. He was only obeying orders, after all. Her prey was he who had given the order.

"You're awake." The tone was observational, no hint of his feelings, good or bad, was given. Cass glared at the back of his head, trying to decide how best to broach the subject of her exclusion from the mission. Finally, deciding that they had both always communicated best with as few words as possible, she gave voice to the largest question rattling around inside her head.

"Why?" She thought for a moment he wasn't going to react, which wouldn't be unusual for him, but he surprised her by sighing and turning.

"Cassandra, you were injured and unfit to go running into a fight. It would have been suicide on your part and gross misjudgment on mine if I were to have allowed..."

"No." He fell silent, and though she couldn't see his face she could read his surprise at not only being interrupted but also having his decisions questioned. "You didn't let me help... even before." Her manner was accusatory, though she couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice. He studied her for a minute and then looked away. She followed his gaze to the glass case memorializing Jason Todd's Robin costume. "You think I...can't?" her distress was becoming more obvious as she struggled to find the words.

"No!" his outburst seemed to surprise even him. "No. That's not it at all. I have complete faith in your abilities but..." he broke off, contemplating Jason's costume again, "but your talents rely greatly on the fact that you can anticipate your opponent's actions before they translate thoughts into movement. Joker is different from any adversary you have faced before. His thoughts and actions are often totally unconnected...unpredictable. It is part of what makes him so dangerous. To someone who depends on reading someone's intentions to survive," he looked pointedly at her, "it makes him even more deadly."

Cass pondered this for a moment. She knew that Robin, Tim, had taken on the Joker all alone and triumphed. But Jason had been killed, Barbara had lost the use of her legs, and, she remembered vaguely, Babs' stepmother had died at the hand of the barbaric clown. Dick, Nightwing, had even been pushed to cross that forbidden line and had _killed_ the Joker before Batman had brought him back to life. Spoiler's death probably didn't help much either. Cass knew Batman could be a little..._unreasonable _when it came to the death of a vigilante. Even one that never had quite made it into the "family". She could understand his reluctance, she supposed, though it galled her to be in such a helpless position.

"I..." she sighed. "I understand." And she knew that he could see that she _did_ understand, and that she accepted his decision. But... "Why...how..." she fought to find the words. "How come I was so..." she waved her hands around vaguely, not sure how to describe her previous incapacity.

"You were struck by one of Joker's razor cards. You're lucky it hit at the angle it did, as it simply struck the nerve and caused the loss of equilibrium instead of slicing open your head. On the other hand, it did manage to split the skin a little," she reached up and felt, for the first time, the small line of stitches in her forehead, "and it had enough residue from Joker's latest concoction to make any possibility of speedy recovery impossible." She nodded, remembering the dizziness and nausea that had stricken her earlier. But Batman wasn't through, "We had some antidotes from some of his other mixtures and they seemed to work, but I'm not taking any chances." He motioned to some test tubes on the table nearby. Three held varying amounts of a red liquid she assumed to be blood, and two others held colorful solutions of some sort.

"Mine?" He nodded briefly and returned to his work on the computer. She sighed, knowing that any action was not an option for the rest of the night. She pulled at her sleeve to inspect where they had drawn blood from her arm, grimacing at the already purpling bruise. Though she had been unconscious for an unknown length of time she felt that all she really wanted was some sleep. She slid a glance up to where Batman was working and then over to the entrance to the cave.

"I...I am going to...go." He nodded, not really attending her anymore. Her stomach rumbled and she decided to stop by the kitchen before returning to her apartment. Alfred would have food...he _always_ had food ready for any of the vigilantes who dropped in.

"Good evening, Miss Cassandra." His voice held no hint of their previous encounter. Well, if he could pretend it didn't happen, so could she... especially if he gave her some of the delicious-smelling chicken he had just taken out of the oven. He seemed to know what she wanted without her saying a word, and was already preparing a plate.

"Thanks." She sat at the counter and began devouring the meat while Alfred puttered around the kitchen, cleaning up, preparing some sort of bread, and doing all the kitcheny things that she didn't understand.

"I have prepared some meals for you that can just be heated up in the microwave," he said microwave as if it were a dirt word, and she grinned. Poor Alfred, he was surrounded by culinary morons who probably would burn water, and it frustrated him to no end. "Also, I will gladly drive you back to the city if you are willing to wait while I finish here." He indicated a mixing bowl that was full of some sort of dough. She nodded, finishing the last of her meal, and slid down from her seat. She wandered into one of the other rooms, one with a large TV on one wall and a wall full of books on the other side. She hesitated, then, looking around to make sure no one was watching, she cautiously approached the books. They were all hard-cover and thick, and she was a little daunted by the prospect of so many words. But she reached out and snagged the thinnest one, thinking to practice while she waited for Alfred.

"T-H-E...the...P-R-O-P-E-R-T-I-E-S...prop..er...proper...tyes...proper...ties?" That didn't make any sense. Where there _unproper_ ways to tie things? "O-F..of" that was an easy one, "C-H-E-M-I-C-A-L-S...che..mee...cals...chemicals." She didn't recognize the word, though that could be because she was pronouncing the _ch-_ like in _chain,_ and, frustrated, she put the book down with a sigh.

"Miss?" She nearly leapt from the chair, seeing Alfred in much the same light as she would Batman rescuing her from a death trap. "Are you ready to return home?" She grinned in relief.

"Yes!"

* * *

The next day Cass was opening one of Alfred's dinners when a knock on the door stopped her. She peered out the keyhole, a behavior that had been drilled into her aggressively by Babs, and was surprised to see Tim standing there, a nervous look on his face. She opened the door, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh! Hey, Cass...I was in the neighborhood and...What I mean is...." He broke off, a blush staining his cheeks. Cass didn't understand why he was so tense, but she opened the door wider, motioning him inside. As he entered she noticed for the first time the bag and box he had clutched in his hands. She couldn't see into the bag, but the box looked and smelled suspiciously like pizza.

"Pizza?" He jumped, startled, but managed not to drop any of his burdens. He looked around the room briefly, obviously curious, but then turned his attention back to her.

"Um, yeah. I was... well..." he cleared his throat. "I was visiting Babs, working out some bugs in my palm data system for the Robin costume, and since it was close by I thought...well, actually Babs said..." Cass couldn't quite suppress a smile. Poor Tim.

"Babs is... checking up on me?" He looked at her in surprised; most of his contact with her had been in costume and he wasn't used to her having a sense of humor. It relaxed him, though, and he grinned.

"Yeah, I guess. She sent over some books," he shrugged, remembering the problem Babs' interference had caused before, but Cass didn't seem too upset. "Some fairy tales."

"More?" He laughed at her wry query, and she motioned to a small stack of books on the table. Most of them were children's stories, such as Snow White, Cinderella, and Beauty and the Beast,

"I think she decided that it would be funny..." he trailed off, drawing a book out of the bag he had brought. She took the book and looked at him questioningly. He had turned away, though, setting the pizza down and rummaging through the bag for the other books. She recognized, with surprise, that he was giving her the opportunity to examine the book without feeling pressure from him.

She examined the cover. It wasn't as colorful as some of the other ones, containing a dark field of thorns as the image. The title held two words and she carefully sounded the letters out in her head before attempting to read it aloud.

"S- sleeping Beauty?" her pronunciation was a little off, but she was able to recognize the words and she looked at Tim, wondering why Babs would think this book funnier than any others. He turned back, shrugging, but also trying to hide a smile. "You think it is funny too?"

"Well..." he bit his lip, unsure of whether she would see the humor or not. "Considering your recent bout with unconsciousness..." her eyes lit with understanding and she looked down at the book again. Tim worried that she had taken offense or something as the silence grew longer. Then she looked up, grinning.

"Is funny. Didn't know I was a...beauty, though." He laughed and she set the book down on the pile with the others.

"Is it ok that I brought pizza?" he asked, indicating the box now lying open and oozing tantalizing aromas. "I... I've kinda been avoiding eating at home lately, y'know, since my dad's been so...well, you know." Cass didn't know, but she could see his good mood fading, so she tried to lighten it.

"As long as I can have some too." He smiled, good humor restored, and they dug in. Cass tried to get some plates, but Tim vetoed that idea, claiming pizza tasted better out of the box. He had also brought a couple of two-liters of Zesti, which he had pulled out of his bag. As they ate, neither said a word, yet the silence was companionable rather than tense, and Cass was surprised to realize that she actually missed this kind of human interaction.

* * *

The last slice of pizza lay alone in the box. Two empty bottles stood nearby. Suddenly a burst of laughter split the room. A flickering of light indicated that some sort of video system was in use, and, to an uninformed observer, it could look like a young couple enjoying a movie together. To a more informed audience, though, it would quickly become clear that everything was _not_ what it seemed.

"The prince is giving a baaaall!" more laughter accompanied the musical outburst. Tim and Cassandra sat on the floor of her apartment watching a musical rendition of "Cinderella" Tim had snagged from his step-mom, Dana. He had come up with the idea earlier in the week and thought maybe encouragement and rewards could help Cass learn to read faster than other methods she had tried. So, knowing how little she had been exposed to any kind of culture as a child, he had found movies of many of the fairy-tale books she was trying to read.

"Stop! _Stop!_" Cass was laughing so hard the command came out as a screech, and Tim grinned at her, still not used to this more relaxed...more _normal_ side of the girl. He paused the DVD to give her time to regain some control. She had never seen a musical before, he had discovered when he showed her the tape and explained his plan, and apparently the idea of people spontaneously bursting into song and dance was more than she could take.

After he had described his idea, the two of them had spent about an hour reading the short book-version of "Cinderella". Cass had started out slowly, with a lot of pauses and stutters, obviously self-conscious. But he had been patient and never interjected or tried to "help"... feeling that she would do better if she figured out each word on her own. And it had worked. By the end of the book she could say some of the shorter words without any hesitation at all, and very few mispronunciations. So, in reward, they had moved to the "living room" to watch Roger's and Hammerstein's "Cinderella".

"You ready yet?" he flashed her a half-smile as her laughter finally subsided.

"Ye..hehe..ahem." she cleared her throat. "Yes." He raised the remote to start the movie again when an insistent beeping cut through their merriment. Tim looked around, then pulled out a modified pager. He read the message, then grimaced.

"I'm sorry, Cass. I've gotta go." She nodded, glancing out the window, surprised at how late it had gotten. She was banned from patrol tonight, but it made sense that Robin would still fly. He packed up his bag and grabbed a trash sack to throw away their leavings. "I..." he glanced back at her, "This was fun." She nodded, sorry, for once, to be left alone.

"Yes. Thank you." He opened the door, then hesitated.

"We could... do it again sometime?" She smiled and held up the DVD case, indicating that he had forgotten the movie.

"You will have to come back... to get the movie." He grinned, then left without another word, waving as he went. Cass sighed. She looked back at the movie but didn't feel like watching it alone. Babs would be organizing patrols now, so she couldn't really... wait. She was banned from _patrol_, but that didn't mean Oracle wouldn't let her visit the clock tower. Humming absentmindedly to herself, she grabbed a coat and a little backpack...she _refused_ to carry a purse...and walked out the door.

The night was a little chilly and, though she didn't really mind, she moved quickly towards her destination. All would have been fine if she hadn't heard the crash in an alley a few blocks short of the clock tower. She hesitated, knowing that she wasn't supposed to be active tonight, but when another crash was followed by a hoarse cry she instinctively vaulted into action. She tugged a wad of black fabric out of her backpack, dropping the pack behind a dumpster as she ran, and pulled on her cape and cowl. She didn't have the rest of her costume, but she hoped the dark clothes she favored would blend in enough to make her transformation mostly complete.

"NO!" the same voice, and she slowed her pace, moving towards her prey with the silence of a jungle cat. The night wasn't too dark, yet in the shadows of the skyscrapers there were pools of darkness that seemed to swallow all light. Batgirl heard a scuffle and some grunts up ahead, and she peered around the corner of the building. There, illuminated only in brief spurts as the struggle brought them under the light of a single street lamp a few times, were three men attacking a fourth. Batgirl watched their movements, seeking any indication of the cause of the fight, but all she could come up with was that three against one wasn't fair. In this case, not fair to their victim...were she the one against the three it would be unfair to the attackers.

She grinned beneath her mask at the thought and leapt into the fray. Fists flew, flesh struck flesh, and bones crunched. In a matter of seconds she was done and tying up the three assailants. The fourth young man, well dressed and not someone who should normally be in this part of town at night, had fallen to his knees to one side of the scuffle and clutched his ribs. Batgirl approached, annoyed when he showed his terror of her, but he was too weak to resist. She pulled his hand away and saw the red seeping from a knife wound on his side. It should have been deflected from any vital organs by his ribs, but the loss of blood could be equally deadly. She tore a strip off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the man's midsection, binding the wound.

It wasn't difficult for Batgirl to carry the injured man a few blocks to the hospital, but by the time they arrived her head was throbbing again. She took a few moments to sit on the roof of the medical building, catching her breath and holding her head in her hands. _Man_. She _hated_ it when Bruce was right. But no, she had to correct her silent statement...she hated it when she and Batman _disagreed_ and he was right...usually they agreed, so she would be pretty silly to hate it when he was right _then_. Apparently Joker's potion was stronger than anyone had realized, though she shouldn't have been surprised; it _had_ made her sleep for awhole day, after all! But now a trip to see Oracle was out of the question. Babs would be able to tell immediately that she hadn't obeyed Batman and had gone out as Batgirl.

She descended to street level slowly, discovering that the quick changes in altitude irritated her head, and removed the cape and cowl. Wadding the fabric up, she was able to retrace her steps, retrieve her bag, which was, miraculously, still where she left it, and return to her apartment. She considered briefly the last piece of pizza, still in the box on the counter, but any thought of food made her queasy. She stumbled over to the bed, not even taking time to undress, and sank gratefully into a deep sleep.

* * *

To be continued...


	4. Grounded

Two days later the sun was shining, birds were chirping, and Cass still felt miserable. Not physically. No, the effects of the chemical had left her system the day after that failed stint as Batgirl. But in all other ways, she had to admit, this _sucked _(a particularly interesting expression she had stolen from the television) Somehow Babs had found out about that night and, though she at least hadn't run to Batman with the incriminating evidence, she had proceeded to give her a lecture that left her ears ringing, then threatened her with bodily harm _and_ Batman's involvement should she step out of line again. Cass had decided that meekness was the better part of valor and had sat quietly through the tirade, glad, at least, that Batman didn't know and wouldn't try to take away her Batgirl costume again.

Of course, he found out anyway. She didn't know how, and she shouldn't have been surprised, but he knew and he demonstrated this knowledge with a two-hour session with the training course set at the highest level.

Oh yes... he _also_ took away her costume. Not for good, just for a week... to remind her, she supposed, that disobeying Batman _always_ had consequences. At least he hadn't fired her like he did Stephanie... although to be honest, Stephanie _had_ deserved it. Though she may have meant well, and had been a nice person...some of the time, she hadn't been a good vigilante as Spoiler and was even worse as Robin. Though, for some reason, no one would admit it. Perhaps dying made one immune from criticism.

So now Cass was stuck playing at "civilian" life for a week...five more days! Five more days of _nothing _to do. She could train, but even with her skills and athletic abilities such vigorous exercise could only be kept up for so long. That still left twelve hours every day with nothing to do, not including the four hours of sleep she got every morning.

There was the TV, she supposed, or the...shudder...books. She hadn't opened one since that night. Feeling spiteful and unable to take it out on anyone, she had irrationally transferred her anger to the colorful books sitting on her coffee table. Now she moved over and picked one up. It was the new one, the one Tim had brought over, and she remembered thinking the cover looked more promising than the other ones...darker. She flipped through the pages, looking at some of the pictures...ooh, a dragon! This could be interesting. And so, having nothing else to do, she settled in to struggle through the story.

Three hours later the poor book went hurling through the air to slam loudly against the refrigerator. It collapsed to the floor, pages bent and spine partially torn. Cass immediately felt a twinge of remorse...the book didn't belong to her and now she had broken it. But she had become so frustrated as the story had progressed.

It was a silly story, really. I mean, come on, who had ever heard of someone dying because they poked their finger?! Although that thought made her pause, remembering drug addicts with gleaming needles, infectious diseases caused by the bite of a tiny insect, and, hitting more closely to home, the deadly poisons that could kill a person just by breaking the skin. Remembering Joker's card she shivered, knowing she was lucky to be alive. So, she mused, clearly there _was_ a bit of reality to be found in the story, but it wasn't enough to make her reconsider her poor impression of it.

The king had been sloppy. Such shabby work would _never_ have been permitted in the Bat clan. Besides, how come in all the fairy tales the prince had to come rescue the princess? _That_ had been where she had thrown the book, for the princess had slept for_ever_ waiting for the prince. Why hadn't anyone just _told_ the girl not to touch a spinning wheel because it would kill her, and let her fend for herself?

Cass sighed, smoothing out the wrinkled pages. She supposed that was why she hadn't found a boy for herself... they all wanted dainty, weak, _soft_ girls like the ones in the books. And Cass knew that whatever softness that _may_ have been found in her in her youth had been ruthlessly trained out of her by Cain.

* * *

"Any luck sir?" Alfred should have known better than to interrupt the Dark Knight while he was working so intently on a case, he had, after all been there since the very birth of Batman. But it was this long experience itself that caused him to force himself into the detective's consciousness every so often. Were he not to intrude the younger man would very likely forget anything outside the case existed...including food, sleep, and all other necessities.

"No, Alfred." Well, at least he was still speaking. Too often he fell into a monosyllabic speaking pattern or failed to respond at all! Of course his tone was gruff and off-putting. That didn't stop the loyal manservant, though.

"I see, sir. Well, if I might suggest..."

"_No._ Alfred." The tone was more forceful this time, rejecting any help, food, or other interruption. Alfred pursed his lips in disapproval.

"Well _really_ sir. I was just going to point out to you that I have brought you some food which, I might add, is necessary to fuel your body as you insist on putting it through such rigorous exertions every night." He huffed, irritated, and finally got some response. Batman threw him a look, almost sarcastic, as he reached for the plate held in the butler's hands.

"Thank you." He took a bite and turned back to the screen, seeming to put Alfred out of his mind. Alfred shook his head sadly. Sometimes it was simply impossible to pull his employer away from his nightly activities. Of course this _particular_ case _was_ important... it was currently the seventh night that the Joker had been on the loose and so far there was a perplexing deficit of bodies. Only the guard at Arkham, and a taxi driver, presumably the poor idiot who had taken Joker from Arkham into the city, had died at the lunatic clown's hands. It was mystifying, to say the least, and possibly catastrophic. Alfred knew that Batman feared that the lack of murders would culminate in one large mass-murder with the death toll reaching into the double, or possibly even triple, digits if Joker was not stopped soon.

"Very well, sir, I..."

"Wait." He had turned to return upstairs, when the voice stopped him. He looked enquiringly at the masked man, surprised that the voice had been closer to "Bruce Wayne's" than Batman's. "I'm...sorry, Alfred. This case has got me, well, frustrated, to put it mildly."

"Indeed." Alfred remained relatively silent, knowing that often these impromptu chats could lead to a breakthrough that Batman hadn't previously seen.

"There doesn't seem to have been a trace of Joker since the Gotham City Trust and Credit. He hasn't killed, hasn't been seen, in fact, I would think he had left Gotham except that it isn't his M.O. Oracle has been monitoring for reports, any surfacing of the money stolen... some of the bills taken were brand new and their serial numbers were easily traceable. Nothing. Nightwing is following up the arson in the Collwell Apartment Building but so far hasn't found anything solid either. Joker left a note there...attached to a motion-sensor bomb that I barely avoided. But it doesn't help at all." He frowned over at the singed paper lying on the table.

"It's almost as if he's trying to...to...I don't know, _warn me off_ of the case. Look at this, 'Dream on, Batsy! _This _time _I_ get to save Gotham... from herself!!" The longer he's loose the more I fear what will happen when he does make his move. I could use more manpower...I've tried to keep Robin off the case..." he trailed off, distractedly looking back at the screen and typing in a few commands, and Alfred knew he wasn't going to finish that line of thought. Yet Batman surprised him, seeming to read the questions in his mind.

"I know Tim did well against Joker before, even defeating him alone. But I'm not sure I'm ready to..." he cleared his throat, ending that line of thought quickly, as if afraid to admit that he cared about the people he worked with. Alfred knew he was once again blaming himself for the death of an ally. Spoiler had been a poor vigilante, and even worse at using common sense. Her actions had driven Gotham into a gang war that very nearly destroyed the city and the Bat-clan itself.

Yet no one deserved to die in such a fashion, and he knew that Stephanie's actions _had_ been related, at least in part, to Batman. Not to mention his "war-game" scenarios that she had unleashed. Still... Alfred realized his mind was wandering, and brought his gaze into sharp focus, glaring at the back of the head of the man in front of him.

"And what of Miss Cassandra?" Alfred knew the girl had been "punished" for disobeying direct orders, the very problem that had supposedly driven Spoiler to take action with the war-game development, but if Batman really needed all the help...

"No. She still has another two days to go, and besides, she's not really a detective and I'm not sure the chemical in her system won't cause any permanent damage." This was news. Alfred hadn't had any idea that Batman still thought the female vigilante effected by the poison.

"In that case, sir, should she not be here...under our supervision?"

"No," he graveled, "the antidote we used lessened the effects enough that they aren't really threatening. But you know the antidote was old, a sort of "cure-all" treatment aimed at a combination of Joker's past formulas as we have no sample of the original substance. Even the blood samples I took have come up negative for any foreign substances. I planted some tracers on her, both on her costume and microscopic ones injected into her bloodstream." He typed some more, seemingly unaware of Alfred's shudder. As much as he wished for the well being of all his charges, sometimes Batman's methods left a lot to be desired.

"And these tracers would do...what, exactly?" he couldn't quite keep the dryness from his tone.

"Monitor her vitals, check for anything unusual. I didn't just take the costume to punish her, you know..." Alfred, in fact, had _not_ known, "but because her actions that night indicated that the substance may have been more powerful than we thought. She suffered an increase in pressure within her skull, which would have caused very painful headaches. She also had a marked decrease in adrenaline, odd coming on so rapidly after a fight, and increases in gamma-amino-butyric-acid, or possibly a strong type of benzodiazepine mimicking GAMA's properties. There were also marked increases in her serotonin levels, another neurotransmitter involved in causing sleepiness, which would explain why she returned to her apartment and slept for nearly twelve hours when she usually only sleeps about four."

"I'm not even going to _ask_ how you know _that_." Batman ignored the wry comment.

"So the chemicals in her brain and nervous system were still being stimulated in such a way that she was inclined to sleep more than normal, a condition that can cause her to be distracted, her movements sluggish, and her overall performance inhibited. The effect lasted too long for the chemical to have been a simple anesthetic, so I'm still concerned over what a larger dose could do to someone... his toxin seems aimed merely at inducing a coma-like sleep. But if Joker's creating a new formula, we must assume the worst possible consequences should he manage to release it. As for Cassandra's case, I didn't think those were good conditions for her to continue as Batgirl."

"I most heartily agree! But..." Batman cut him off, continuing his monologue on the properties of the Joker's formula.

"I don't know what Joker's up to but, with no smiles, no deaths, and none of his other "normal" tricks, if any of them _could_ be considered normal, it makes no sense." He frowned, seeming to forget the conversation as he moved to examine some papers... bills, to be precise... evidence left at the bank. Alfred was frustrated that the Dark Knight seemed unconcerned with his protégé's medical conition.

"But sir! If I may ask, how do you know if the toxin has run its course, that Miss Cassandra is now safe from the effects?"

"The same sensors that told me her symptoms before. Plus the training room. When I made her train all day her reaction times were near to her normal performance. She has returned to a normal sleep schedule, plus an hour or so, but that can be attributed to the lack of stimulation she has as a civilian."

"If the agent has left her system, why, then, would you think it could cause permanent damage?"

"Because, Alfred, her pride is hurt and I want to make sure she doesn't do something stupid like try to take on the Joker herself." Raising his eyebrows in understanding, Alfred nodded and removed himself from the room as an insistent beeping called Batman out to investigate another crime.

* * *

To be continued...


	5. Strange Visitor

A persistent knocking woke Cass from her morning slumber. Grumbling to herself she looked out the window, grimacing when she saw that the sun wasn't even thinking about peeking over the horizon. Who was even _conscious_ at this time of day?! She peeked groggily out the peephole, disgruntled and rather surprised to see Tim there. _Again?_ Come on, it was one thing to come over bearing pizza and helpful reading incentives at a decent time. It was quite another to appear uninvited, at a horrendous hour of the morning, apparently empty handed. She seriously considered ignoring him and going back to bed, but then she sighed, knowing that Tim had been nice and helped her and maybe it _was _something important.

That thought stopped her cold. Had something happened? To Batman? Nightwing? Babs? Was someone hurt or...she refused to finish the thought but couldn't quite keep from wrenching the door open in a rather panicky way. Tim looked surprised. Cass couldn't know that she looked terrifying, her hair all messy, wearing a loose black tank top and black sweatpants, with a rather wild look in her eyes. Tim actually took an involuntary step back.

"What?! What...grr..." high stress made always made her words disappear. "Did...something... happen? ... Batman?" she finally managed to grind out. He seemed confused for a moment, then his eyes widened and, to her astonishment, a faint blush stole over his cheeks.

"Um...no. Nothing's happened to anyone." His eyes flicked briefly behind her and his detective-honed powers of observation noted the darkened room and, in the pale light from the hall, the unmade bed. "I didn't mean to wake you up, I thought..." he trailed off, apparently deciding not to share with her what it was, exactly, he had thought. She frowned at him; now that she was no longer worried the irritation was returning.

"What do you want?" if it came out sounding rude...well, good. It was supposed to. She had been _sleeping_. Didn't he understand what that meant? She wanted to go _back_ to sleep, too, and he was standing in the hall saying nothing, like a...like a...well she didn't know what it was like, but whatever stood in people's halls and stuttered out half sentences that made no sense, _that_ is what he was like.

"Gee, Cass, I _said _I was sorry." Great, now he was irritated too. Except... her mind was finally beginning to come fully awake and the part that read body language was reexamining the last few minutes. There was a reason she had leapt to the conclusion that something horrible had happened... his whole demeanor had been blaring out a message of tension, worry, and anger. She studied him now, noting little things that she hadn't before, such as the suspiciously hand-shaped bruise on his neck, the recently scabbed cut on his forehead, and the pain lurking behind his eyes. Not physical pain, not caused by the bruises or the scars or any of the injuries he must have sustained last night as Robin. No, this was a pain of the soul, a haunted look that reminded her all too well of the pain she had seen many times staring back at her in the mirror. She backed up and motioned him inside.

The room was dark, and she turned on a lamp, but decided the overhead lights were too bright for this time of the morning. Besides, having recently suffered from a head injury herself, she knew that bright lights were _not_ welcome when one has a headache. He came in, stood uncertainly in the middle of the room for a minute, the sat down on the couch, still tense. He slung his backpack, which she hadn't noticed, down onto the floor with a heavy _thump_, indicating that it was stuffed full... of what she didn't know. She considered for a moment, then, deciding that Alfred's remedies were always the best, not to mention the fact that she was _hungry_, she moved to the kitchen and took out some of the prepared foods. One thing she _did_ know how to cook was water, and so she heated some for tea while chicken-cordon-bleu heated in the microwave. If Tim thought her choice of breakfast a little odd, he wisely refrained from comment, possibly because he knew her unorthodox upbringing may not have included "breakfast" foods versus "dinner" foods.

"Here." She handed him a plate and he was surprised to feel his stomach growl in response. He smiled weakly at her and she started to eat, apparently content not knowing why he was there. He shrugged mentally and dug in as well. Unlike the silence a few nights ago, this one was tense and pregnant with unspoken troubles. Finally, though the food had helped him relax a bit, Tim couldn't take the silence any longer.

"Ummm..." he stopped, cleared his throat, and tried to start again. "First off, I'm sorry I woke you up. I forgot you haven't been out at night this week and thought it was early enough you might still be up." Cass shrugged indifferently. "Right. So... anyways I came over here because, well...the other day..." his pauses were getting on her nerves...she obviously wasn't a morning person, though, considering her occupation, he really should have thought of that before.

"Tim," she tried to keep the irritation out of her voice, but didn't think she was succeeding too well. "What is it you want?" he flushed again; though he was used to criticism and irritation from the Titans, especially Kon, Batman, his Dad, and so on, he was surprised to find that Cass's frustration could fluster him.

"I...I just needed to crash somewhere, ok?" it came out in a rush and Cass raised her eyebrow in surprise. "Uh...I mean..." he sighed. "I had a big fight with my dad. I had thought... after the gang wars he was so... I just didn't realize I would have to keep fighting him on the whole Robin issue."

"He wants you to quit again?" Tim shrugged miserably. Cass considered his injuries and took a not-so-wild guess. "Did anything..._specific_... cause it?" He gave her a little half-smile, though his heart wasn't really in it.

"I guess you could say that. I had a...an _unfortunate_ incident with a couple of Jok...er, I mean some thugs and probably wasn't quiet enough when I got home. Or maybe he just had some kind of ESP, I don't know. But only about a minute after I got in, before I could cover up..." he waved vaguely at his neck and face, "he walked in, saw my injuries and flipped out again! I don't know, Cass, I really don't. It's like he can't make up his mind in a reasonable fashion."

Though he would never admit it out loud, Tim wasn't even completely sure his dad _was_ reasonable. There had been numerous instances where he acted strangely, such as when he had lost all the family's money, or when he first found out about Robin. Sometimes Tim had to wonder if the injuries that had left his dad in a coma, and then crippled for a while, hadn't also somehow messed with his sanity. But, as mentioned, Tim would _never_ voice these opinions aloud.

"So you came...here?" the disbelief, though it was "polite disbelief", was palpable. He shrugged.

"Well, we seemed to kinda, I don't know, connect the other day?" His voice was hopeful, his body saying "can't that be a good reason?" But she didn't seem convinced and his shoulders sagged.

"Wellllll..." he drew the word out, "y'see I kind of, maybe, got mad at my dad and said some things I shouldn't have." _Yeah_, he thought sourly, _things like, "if you're so concerned about me, where were you back when I _became_ Robin in the first place...became Robin because _you_ were off jet-setting with mom and leaving me alone!?" _

"O-kay..." two could play at the long-word game. He rolled his eyes.

"My dad made me mad and I just lost it, OK? He yelled and I yelled, and then I grabbed some clothes and stuff and left. If he goes looking for me...well, I'm not really sure I want him to find me...at least not yet. So I couldn't go to the Manor, Blüdhaven is a little further than I can go as Tim Drake without transportation...my 'cycle being just for Robin and I didn't really feel like suiting back up... and Babs is...well, she's just Babs." He grimaced. "She'd probably want to interfere anyway, try to get me to talk to him or something." Cass nodded sagely. In this she had much experience. Babs was a very _good _meddler.

Yet for all his talk of fighting with a parent, something she understood very well, all his anger... it seemed so...so..._not_ Tim. It was unusual and she had a feeling there was more to it than just a fight with his dad. But she didn't read body language for nothing, and his was begging her to accept his explanation. She changed the subject.

"So... you want to stay here?" he suddenly looked uncomfortable again, not having thought about any implications of his staying with Cass ahead of time. He hadn't imagined there being any problems... they were colleagues, possibly friends, but he hadn't realized what staying at her apartment would entail. He swallowed with a little difficulty.

"Um... not...not necessarily." She cocked her head like a bird in confusion. "Maybe just for the rest of tonight," he clarified, "I was hoping I could crash on your couch and then find a hotel or something for a few days." He looked down guiltily, remembering his own advice against just such actions taken by Stephanie when she had had a fight with her mom. Cass considered. He was obviously upset. She had caught the reference to the Joker's henchmen, though he had tried to cover the slip. She knew Batman went nuts whenever the Joker was involved, and that the madman was still on the loose. She hadn't known, though, that Robin was now involved. It stung her pride that he was called in while she still sat on the sidelines.

But that wasn't Tim's fault. She knew, too, what it was like to..._disagree_ with one's father. Though to call her relationship with Cain a "disagreement" was an understatement of gargantuan proportions. Coming to a decision, she stood.

"You can stay." He looked up, relief evident. "And..." she hesitated now. Batman had supposedly closed "her" cave when she had been fired and moved to the apartment. But she knew he would have left it in at least minimal operational status. He was, after all, always prepared. But if he joined the search for Tim... if he decided it was better that father and son speak whether Tim wanted to or not... would he think to look in the abandoned cave? She knew even if Tim came up with an alias at a hotel he'd be too easy to find. And, though she didn't for a millisecond entertain the idea that Tim would cease his nighttime activities...that was, after all, the whole point of the fight...she suspected Batman wouldn't try to compel a meeting during "working" hours. Maybe Tim could stay in the cave awhile without Batman following him back to force the issue.

"What?" His query made her realize she had been lost in thought too long. She shook herself slightly, bringing her musings to an end, and then smiled.

"You can stay tonight... and tomorrow I can show you a place to stay for however long you need." For the first time all day Tim's smile reached his eyes.

* * *

Sunlight streamed down into the dark recess, blinding the primitive inhabitants and startling them into far retreats. The light dimmed briefly as one...two figures maneuvered down into the damp tunnel, then flared again just before it was exterminated by the _clang_ of a manhole cover being closed. Smaller beams of light now penetrated the darkness, flashlights sweeping the area for bearing, then moving away with muffled footsteps. Beady eyes caught in the beams reflected the light back before disappearing in fright, the owners unable to understand the working of the human mind.

"Here." One figure aimed its beam of light at a nondescript box, nearly identical to the hundreds of maintenance boxes that were located at regular intervals along the sewer line. The difference could only be seen by a trained eye...or in this case, an eye that knew in advance to bring along special goggles made especially for interpreting differences in wavelengths of light. This box was gray, like all the others, but had a special reflective coat that could only be seen with the special goggles. When the light from the flashlight hit the box, the figures wearing the unique eyewear would see a greenish tint, made brighter in one particular spot. That the "spot" _happened_ to be shaped like a bat was surely coincidence...or not.

"Now what?" Tim Drake studied the box, grateful for the goggles that allowed him to identify the entrance to Cass' "place to stay", though he didn't rely on them as his only means of finding it again. His training as a detective was so ingrained it was nearly instinctual and he took note of little things. He noticed the fact that three bricks to the right and two rows up from the top of the box was a broken brick with half of one side chipped away, that there were four pipes overhead, the ground held a slight depression, and the wall on the other side of the water-way had a rat-hole near the floor and very vulgar graffiti slathered across its surface.

"Press..." she demonstrated, putting her hand flush against the surface of the box and applying pressure. An almost sub-sonic _hiss_ was heard, then part of the wall slid aside noiselessly allowing them entrance to Cassandra's own Batcave. Cass watched him surreptitiously, trying to gauge his reaction. She hadn't been here since she had moved to the apartment, using the main cave to work out instead, but it didn't look any different. She had lived here for months, not caring, or even wanting, that she was cut off from life outside of Batgirl.

Of course now that she was once again used to living above ground she could see how dismal it might seem to someone else. She bit her lip, wondering if maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to offer the cave's use to Tim. He was silent, but she could tell he was initially put off by the cave's interior. Actually, he had been rather reluctant to even come down in the first place. He wasn't quite so angry anymore...maybe he was reconsidering running away from home. His body language changed into something she didn't quite recognize and he turned to her, a strained look on his face.

"You lived here for _how_ long?" she blinked. She didn't know...she hadn't really paid attention to dates when she had first moved in, nor, to tell the truth, in the months following.

"I...I don't know. Some months...maybe at least a year I think?" she looked away, hating the uncertainty... another reason for her to learn to read, so she could keep track of things like that. She thought she would see disgust or at least aversion in his eyes; he obviously didn't like the cave, but when she met his gaze he surprised her. Was that... admiration? Respect? But those had always, well almost always, been there. But they were stronger, and she had to admit it made her feel all funny inside. Kind of warm and fuzzy... like a teddy bear she had seen. It made her want to grin. She settled for a small half-smile.

"I guess if you could stay down here for months I can manage for a few days." He did grin, and she could tell he had decided to make it a contest, of sorts, for himself. To challenge his own abilities and push himself outside his comfort levels. She walked through the cavernous room, pointing out the bed, the TV, the refrigerator, and other necessities. Finally she said goodbye and left... making her way back through the sewer to the manhole they had used as an entrance.

The sunlight hurt her eyes, as it always did after a prolonged stay underground, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. It was a sunny day and she meandered slowly through the streets, making a game out of trying to read the signs on the storefront. By the time she reached her apartment it was late afternoon and she unlocked the door, eager for the evening to begin. She could eat dinner and warm up with a few exercises, then suit up and....

Oh. Yeah. Traveling to the cave had been like a trip back in time. She had forgotten that she still had another night left before she could go out as Batgirl. She kicked the couch lightly, not really putting any force into it, knowing she would damage it if she did. Well then. What _could_ she do? The light was fading, but not gone, and she supposed she could visit Babs. As long as she hurried she could maybe avoid any crimes and, by extension, the temptation to intervene. She grabbed her coat and rushed out.

* * *

To be continued...


	6. Word Games

"No...two blocks...follow the...hold it..." Babs reached out switching the viewscreen to a different scene. "There." the image showed Black Canary in a small foreign town...perhaps in South America somewhere... near the edge of a rainforest. As Babs gave her directions she moved around a corner and came upon a group of guerrillas, about fifteen, with various models of armaments. As Dinah sprang into action against them Babs sat back, knowing that now it was all up to the female fighter and her job was done...for the moment.

"What's up?" she turned, actually managing to surprise the younger girl who was sneaking in the window. She smiled at Cass's consternation and waved at her computer screens. "You triggered my sensors on the roof." Cass smiled and shrugged. Tim had mentioned that sometimes he and Nightwing, _especially_ Nightwing, would try to "surprise" Babs, always trying to get past her surveillance. But they were rarely successful. She managed to update her systems often enough that even Batman could not always get through undetected.

"Bored." Luckily her trip to the clock tower had been uneventful. She watched, intrigued, as the screen monitoring Black Canary showed her finishing off the last of the guerrillas. Her moves were...impressive. Batgirl had worked and trained with Dinah before. It looked as if she had learned some new tricks since then, though. Cass recognized some of the techniques... that one was definitely learned from Shiva... but could tell others were adaptations unique to the feisty vigilante now "kicking butt" in some steamy jungle. The terrorists were routed, either unconscious or fleeing into the protective camouflage of the forest.

"All right, O. I've done my part...you getting a reading?" Babs leaned forward tapping away rapidly at her keyboard.

"Good work, Dinah. Give me a second to bring the sensors online...got it!" She smiled triumphantly. "Ok, time to bring you home." Dinah seemed to know that Babs would have tapped into some sort of nearby surveillance equipment and she gave a theatrical bow and flourish.

"All in a day's work, my dear, all in a day's work." She emphasized her declaration with a very bad imitation of a British accent, then straightened and winked into mid air. Cass wondered about that for a moment, then realized that, though Canary may know Babs was watching, she wouldn't know where the camera was.

"All right, all right. Bravo, and all that. You want your plane tickets or not?"

"Do they come with a hot dinner, long bath, and a massage by an incredibly _hot_ guy?" Babs rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I believe they come with an in-flight meal...you'll have to drum up your other requests on your own."

"Party-pooper." But she was smiling as she said it. "All right, see you later."

"Later, Dinah." Babs cut the connection and turned to another computer, entering commands and checking readouts. Once she was satisfied that no one else required Oracle's immediate attention, she wheeled her chair around to face her young friend. "So...?" She raised an eyebrow inquiringly, "What's new in your world?" Cass shifted uncomfortably, wondering how much Babs knew about Tim's disappearing act and whether or not she should confide in the older heroine. Even as she decided to keep quiet about the whole incident, she realized that her hesitation was giving her away.

"Nothing new. Boring stuff." She winced internally, knowing that she sounded _too_ casual, and waited for the axe to drop.

"Mmm-hmmm." Barbara didn't seem convinced. "And so you wouldn't know _anything_ at all about Robin?" Cass tried to affect an innocent look while stifling a groan. There was a reason that Oracle was "all-knowing, all-seeing"... she couldn't resist digging up new information. And that included gossip. Especially gossip. And should the gossip happen to be about one of the inner circle...one of _her_ vigilantes...well, there wasn't a force on Earth that could stop her from ferreting out the truth.

"Robin?"

"Uh-huh. I overheard a _very_ interesting conversation over the comm between him and Batman. You know anything about that?" her voice was overly innocent, smug, so Cass knew she had to tread carefully; Babs wasn't telling everything she knew and she was still digging for _more_ information, so Cass needed to figure out how to keep whatever Babs didn't know yet a secret.

"No." That's it, Cass, short, sweet, and truthful. She pushed the treacherous voice away that said she wasn't being wholly honest...she _didn't _know about any comm call. She had left Tim in the cave, and that's all she knew. End of story. Except that Barbara the Interrogator knew her job and did it well. Having asked for information by way of referencing something Cass _didn't_ know about, she had captured her interest and could now negotiate an exchange of information.

"_Really?_" Ooh, she was good. Now she was Shark Babs, circling in for the kill. Cass wasn't sure how Babs had connected her to Tim's dilema... maybe she was just _that_ good, or, more likely, her name had somehow been dragged into that infamous call and now she would have to deal with Babs _and_ Batman...but she could tell that Babs was confident enough in her sources to get the whole story out of her sooner or later. Probably sooner. She sighed and flopped down on the couch.

"What call?" Well, she didn't have to make it any easier on Babs...if she wanted to know about Tim, she would have to tell what had happened after Cass left the cave first! Babs smiled, knowing she had her victim firmly hooked.

"Well, I got a call from Batman asking for Robin's location...apparently he wasn't answering his comm." She waited, hoping Cass would comment but knowing that the younger girl had more self-control than that. She wouldn't break until she was ready. "So I pulled up the data and found his locator in _your _old cave!"

"So?" Babs swallowed a growl of frustration. She had to give Cass credit, she knew how to play the game almost as well as Babs herself. But Babs had been in the information gathering business a lot longer than Cass, so she was sure she would triumph eventually.

"_So!?_ Cass, Tim was in your old cave! I know he didn't just _happen_ to stumble across the cave and manage to get in all on his own! Come on, what's going on?" Cass just gave her a tiny smile.

"What did Batman say?" Babs glared at her.

"I asked you a question first!" She couldn't believe she was resorting to such childish methods, but she wasn't used to not being able to get whatever information she wanted. Cass just shrugged silently forcing Babs to sigh in resignation.

"Fine. Batman just told Robin to meet him at the old Barklay Ceramics factory. I don't know what they talked about after that, though I'm sure they _did_ talk about something."

"Why?"

"It was..." she hesitated, trying to recall the incident and figure out what was going on on her own. "Batman's voice," she finally decided, "it wasn't right." Cass sat up straighter in concern.

"Imposter?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Babs smiled at the younger girl's obvious desire for a reason to get back into the costume early. "It was Bruce, I just... he just sounded off. Like something was wrong. And he was...angry. When he called for Robin's location he was angry at something, but I didn't really think it was directed at Tim. I did get the feeling that whatever deserved his ire was _connected_ to Tim in some way, though. And since he was in your old hangout..." she trailed off, indicating that now it was Cass' turn to impart information.

"I..." Cass wouldn't meet Babs' eyes. "I don't think I can..." Babs frowned. She wanted to know what was going on. As Oracle she needed to keep her information updated to be able to help her field agents in dangerous situations. If this situation affected Tim's performance as Robin... but then she supposed that would be something Batman would have to deal with. As much as she needed that information she could understand Cass' reluctance to betray what was probably a trusting confidence.

"All right. I give... you don't have to tell me." Cass looked up in surprise mixed with a fear that she had angered her friend. But while Babs' body language portrayed frustration, there wasn't any animosity directed towards Cass. "Actually, I admire your discretion. It shows that you're trustworthy, which I'm sure Tim will appreciate, and in this business secrets are just part of every day life." Cass smiled, relieved to be off the hook.

"I..." she looked around, wondering what to talk about now that the whole gossip session had apparently ended. "Thanks for the books." She hoped that bringing the subject up wouldn't start Babs back on trying to teach her to read.

"No problem." A beeping and flashing light on one of her consoles caught Babs' attention and she turned back to the equipment, fully in Oracle mode. Cass smiled and sat back, deciding that if she couldn't be Batgirl tonight, at least she could watch the action here with Babs.

* * *

To be continued...


	7. You WHAT?

"Robin." Tim stood from the crouched position he had landed in. When Batman had called earlier he had switched channels, not sure he was ready to face an interrogation just yet. But he hadn't counted on Babs and her being able to hack into the cave's systems. He had been finishing suiting up...just donning his cape, the mask still on the table... when the large screen on one wall had sprung to life, portraying the large green Oracle icon. The sound system had started up with a spattering of static, then Batman had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to meet him A.S.A.P. at the old Barklay Ceramics factory.

So he was here now, Batman was melting out of the shadows, and he was sure he was about to get fired or something. He knew that ignoring Batman's first call was not the smartest thing he'd ever done; there could have been a real emergency that needed his assistance. He regretted letting his personal fears interfere. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Batman. I, uh, I can..." Batman motioned for him to quit, so he shut up, beginning to hope, for the first time, that this wasn't about his home life, but rather an honest-to-goodness crime or lead to follow. Batman motioned for him to follow and led him across the roof, down the side of the building and into a dark alley. Tim looked around, years of training keeping him on his toes when it came for spotting danger, but nothing moved in the deserted alley. Batman stood in the shadows, apparently waiting for something, and within moments the Batmobile pulled silently around the corner and eased to a stop.

After indicating that Tim should get in the car, Batman took out a small device, fiddled with it for a moment, and put it back in his utility belt. Tim barely caught a glimpse of it in the moonlight, but he recognized it as a scrambler, a device used to nullify bugs or other communications devices. Batman didn't want anyone eavesdropping on their discussion. Oh. That meant it probably _was_ about his recent behavior. Drat. The car moved forward again, this time in Batman's control, and the streets sped by too quickly for Tim to keep track of where they were headed.

"Do you want to explain to me why your stepmother called the Manor in a panic because you had disappeared?" the question came without warning, startling Tim out of his reverie.

"Well...um, you see my dad...wait! Dana called the Manor?" this was a twist he hadn't anticipated. "What did she say? Was she..." Batman grunted, cutting him off, and threw him The Look. Tim sat back, subdued. He heaved a deep sigh.

"I got in a fight with my dad and ran away." He winced as he said it, knowing that Batman would berate him for any number of things, from running away from something to fighting with his dad in the first place. But no reprimand was forthcoming, and the silence grated on Tim's nerves enough for him to try to fill it with nervous chatter. "He was a little upset at seeing me after last night's _encounter_ with some of Joker's henchmen. He started talking about me quitting being Robin again, ok?" he knew he sounded petulant, but couldn't take it back after the fact. Batman glanced at him.

"I thought that was taken care of."

"So did I!" Tim burst out. "That's what the fight was about. I guess now that the whole city isn't a war zone he doesn't feel like it's required anymore." He fell silent, mulling over the problem. "I ... I think he might have found out about Steph." Stephanie's death had been explained to outsiders as a mugging gone wrong during the gang war. It had satisfied everyone for a while...no one knew of her involvement with the Bat-clan, except her mother. But her mother had thrown out Stephanie's backup costume and Tim had rescued it.

Though the pain he had felt at her death hadn't been as great as it should have been had he really loved her, forcing him to admit, if only to himself, that he had stopped caring about her as a girlfriend long ago, he felt guilt that she had died trying to prove herself. To Batman, to the Birds... to him. So he had kept her mask in his room, a reminder. Unfortunately his dad had noticed it, had started asking questions about it. That had been right before he also noticed the marks on Tim's body and started yelling. Tim only assumed that his dad had put the mask and Tim's girlfriend's death together and the threat of his son dying had sent him over the edge. Again.

"He didn't know she was Spoiler, and I think he figured it out. So we yelled, and I... well, I ran away. I packed a bag and left. I mean, I love my dad...really! But he... he... I can't stop being Robin. I've gone that route and learned that, for now, it's something that I _have_ to do. And he can't understand that." Batman didn't say anything, but the car slowed and Tim glanced out the window. He recognized the neighborhood and groaned.

"Come on, Bruce, I'm still too mad about this! I'm not ready to..."

"You don't have to." Tim waited for him to elaborate, tensing up for an argument. "From what I gathered talking to Dana, your father has locked himself in his room, refusing to..."

"Not again!" Tim muttered, remembering the months after the family had lost their fortune.

"Refusing to talk to anyone." Batman continued as if Tim hadn't interrupted. "He may or may not be willing to talk to you, but since you don't want to talk to him, that point is null anyway. We're here so you can apologize to your stepmother for leaving like that." Tim winced. Dana had always been kind to him...sometimes more of a mother than his own had been before she died. He hadn't meant to worry her, he had only wanted to get away from his dad.

"What if..."

"If you decide you can't stay there, you are welcome at the Manor, but remember, Tim, you are legally underage and therefore under your parent's guardianship. You will have to decide how much and what to tell Dana, but she will have some say in your plans." Tim nodded, recognizing an order when he heard one.

"Will you...are you going to wait, or...?"

"No. Joker's still at large. Take care of this. If you can come back out tonight, do so, but if not, call Alfred so he knows your plans." Tim nodded. He climbed out of the Batmobile and shot our a jump-line. He would have to sneak into his room to change out of his costume before coming back through the front door to speak with Dana.

The apartment was quiet, most of the lights turned out, and he had little trouble getting in and out of his room unnoticed. He was a little surprised to see that nothing had been moved since his disappearance. The lack of a search implied that either no one had thought any evidence of his whereabouts could be found within his belongings, or that no one had cared enough to try. The second thought he could perhaps apply to his dad, especially in his current mindset, but he had trouble believing that Dana would call Bruce inquiring after him if she didn't care. He snuck back out the way he had come in and made his way down to the street level. By the time he reached the apartment door his hands were trembling, albeit imperceptibly, and he was fighting the urge to turn around and run off again. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, unsure of what he'd find.

Dana sat in an easy chair under a lamp, the only illumination in the room, reading a book. Though her posture was relaxed, Tim could detect a tenseness in her and felt another twinge of guilt at worrying her. As he opened the door and entered the apartment she looked up, surprise quickly fading to relief and then morphing to affectionate irritation.

"Tim! Where have you..."

"Wait." He cut her off, feeling that neither of them needed to go through the anxious parent/ rebellious teen act. She raised an eyebrow, surprised at having been cut off; Tim was usually very well-mannered. He sighed and closed the door, unable to keep from comparing it's soft _click_ to a clang of a prison cell door.

"Are you... all right?" Her hesitancy made him feel even worse, as he assumed it stemmed from the fact that he had been acting quite peculiar lately and that she wasn't sure how to approach him.

"I'm..." he couldn't say he was _fine_, because technically he wasn't. But he wanted to reassure her. "I'm ok. I'm really..._really_ sorry for running out and scaring you. I, um, wasn't exactly thinking at the time." She nodded. He didn't know what his dad had told her, if anything, about their fight, and didn't want to give away more than she knew.

"I was worried, Tim. I heard you and Jack yelling at each other and then you disappeared and he locked himself up again..." she stopped, looking away. Tim winced.

"You heard us?" She nodded.

"I couldn't understand what was being said, but it sounded... it sounded bad." Tim nodded and sat down on the couch, resting his chin in his hand on the edge of the sofa's arm.

"You're right...it _was_ bad. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have...hateful things. But their cruelness doesn't mean they weren't true. I..." he broke off, suddenly more weary than he had been in a long time. "I'm not sure I can keep on doing this."

"Doing what?" He shrugged.

"Living here, acting like everything's fine. I...you _know_ I love my dad...but all that anger doesn't come out of nowhere. I guess it's been building up inside me for a long time; so slowly that I didn't notice it. Like the proverbial frog in the pot, I didn't notice the rising temperature until it was too late."

"It's not too late, Tim. I know Jack has some... issues, but he's tried so hard to be part of..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" She looked hurt at his angry outburst and he took a deep breath.

"Listen, Dana, I can understand your position here, but you have to try to understand mine! My dad basically _ignored_ me for thirteen years, leaving me alone with just Mrs. Mac And I did all right...then when everything went down, what with mom's death and dad's coma, I was still on my own. And then everything changed. Dad woke up, you came along, and for a while I thought we were going to be a real family. Dad actually seemed to _want_ to be part of my life, and I was so thrilled I didn't realize how odd that was. But... the situation was hard to adjust to, because while I wanted him in my life, I had gotten to used to being on my own. Of course, then he sent me to Brentwood, and I thought maybe he was reverting to character."

"Tim..." she tried to interrupt.

"After we lost all the money, I wanted to believe in him, even when he made it hard by locking himself up. He _is_ my dad, after all. Then when he fou..." whoops! Don't bring up Robin, Tim! "Uh, found out that I wasn't on the football team and I was, um, _grounded_," well, that was _one_ way of looking at it. Dana hadn't known that Robin's wings had been clipped, but she would have had to have been blind to not feel some of the tension. And she _knew_ that Tim had gotten in some kind of trouble, but that they were keeping it from her. "I was mad, upset. But I got used to sticking around here and getting to be closer to him. Now, though, ... I don't know. Every time we start to connect, something happens to drive a wedge between us again. We just can't seem to get over our differences, and all the years of hurt aren't making it any easier." He looked down at the floor.

"Tim, maybe you both just need some time to cool off. I'm sure we can work this out." Tim laughed, somewhat harshly.

"I don't think so, Dana. But thanks. This... this situation isn't something you can help with."

"But maybe if I knew what..."

"_No._ No. Sorry. Dad didn't want you to know, and this is one thing I _can_ agree with him on, at least to a point. The less you know, the safer...uh...I mean _better_ off you'll be." He nearly smacked himself at his slip. He must be more tired than he thought. He looked up, hoping she had missed his slip of the tongue, but she was looking at him strangely.

"O-_kay_!" he said with false enthusiasm, "I, uh, guess I'll just be go..."

"_Tim_." She said his name slowly, consideringly. "Tim, does this fight with Jack have anything to do with..."

"No! Of course it doesn't have anything to do with you! You're probably one of the best things that's hap..." he broke off, flushing as she raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"That's not _exactly_ what I was going to ask, but it's nice to know." She threw him a half-smile. He grinned back, sheepishly. "Actually I was going to ask if you were fighting about...um... your _nighttime _activities?"

"..." Tim was sure his mouth was hanging down to the floor. She didn't mean...she _couldn't _mean...how could she know about....!?

"Uh, Tim, you might want to breathe now." He did so, not having realized he had stopped in all the shock. Common sense was returning, slowly, and he widened his eyes, trying to look innocent.

"Nighttime activities? I don't know what you mean." Her eyes narrowed and he felt the noose tighten around his neck.

"You don't?" her voice was too sweet, too friendly. Warning sirens flashed in his mind.

"Ummmmm. No. I don't." She sighed and, instead of attacking, she backed down. But the look she gave him, one of deep hurt and disappointment, cut to his heart.

"Tim, do you remember my wedding to your father?" huh? Where was she going with this?

"Yeah..." he drawled it out, not sure he wanted to commit to an answer.

"Do you remember the night _before_ our wedding?" she asked more pointedly. He kept his facial features blank, but his mind was spinning. The night before Dana and his Dad's wedding Dana had been possessed by an evil sorceress with the power to control animals. Robin and Spoiler had stopped her, but, while possessed, Dana had seen him as Tim _and_ Robin. She hadn't revealed any recognition afterwards, and he had assumed that she didn't remember. Apparently that may have been a false assumption.

"Are you telling me that you...since _then_? Why didn't you say anything?" Tim was hoping he could get her to clarify that she _was_ referring to Robin, so he wouldn't blow the secret...again. His dad thought that knowing the secret would "kill" Dana, though Tim had more faith in her than that. He had always just wanted to protect his loved ones.

"Tim, I... I figured if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me. And I didn't think your dad would take it very well." She paused. "He hasn't, has he? That _is_ what this is all about, right?" Tim shrugged.

"Depends on what 'this' is." Dana rolled her eyes.

"Ok, fine. 'This' refers to the fact that you are, and have been for quite some time, I'd imagine, Robin. Am I correct?" The grim look on his face answered her question.

"So...why aren't you upset, like my dad?" She shook her head.

"Tim, I experienced Robin's talents first hand. Though I cared for you and was naturally concerned, I saw that you could take care of yourself. _And_ I knew that you were doing an important job... just look at the situation! I was carrying around the crazy soul of an evil sorceress... if you hadn't stopped us, who knows what would have happened? I have always felt that the job you, and Batman, and whoever else is out there, are doing is important. Besides," she shrugged self-deprecatingly, "I wasn't exactly family at the time."

"But..."

"No, really, Tim. I understood that I was the outsider coming in...I just hope we've moved beyond that stage since then?" He grinned at her.

"Yeah. We have."

"Good. So, are you planning on staying here?" her tone almost implied a threat if he didn't, but he knew her concern was borne out of love.

"Yeah, I guess I can stay." He looked towards his Dad and Dana's room and added, "And tomorrow I'll see if I can't try to patch things up."

* * *

"_HEEE-heeheeheehee!_" The manic laugh echoed through the abandoned mattress factory. In one dimly lit corner, a chemist's table was set up, with chemicals bubbling merrily away, oblivious to the sinister nature of their fates. A crash followed the laugh, and somewhere someone screamed. One shadow, indiscernible from the rest, seemed to flinch, but that may have been a trick of what little light there was. To an observer, one who knew that the shadow was Batman, it might have seemed as if the Dark Knight had finally stumbled upon Joker's latest hideout. Yet to Batman himself, it had all the markings of another of Joker's death-traps. He knew that if he rushed in without analyzing the scene, it could end disastrously.

A chemical analysis of the note left at the Collwell fire had led him to the industrial sector of the city; an area packed with abandoned warehouses and old factories that could easily be transformed into criminal hideouts. Not that there weren't _functional_ factories as well, but the number of places Joker could hide down here were nearly limitless. The sound of footsteps, followed by that haunting laugh, had led him here, to the Comfort-Select mattress factory. He had investigated, noting the many darkened rooms, and found this make-shift lab set up. He had already checked out the supposed chemicals, and found them to be colored sugar and salt waters.

He _had_ been upset at Tim earlier in the evening, which didn't help the situation any. Strong emotions rarely did. He been annoyed that Tim had run away and not told anyone in the Bat-clan that he was having trouble, but more because of the effect it had on his ongoing investigation than because Tim had been covering up his problems. His anger really hadn't been aimed at the youth 's familial dilemma; Tim wanted to stay Robin and his father wasn't sure he was ok with that. Batman could understand the sentiments on both sides.

He himself had many reservations about letting younger vigilantes work alongside him. Spoiler's death had only accentuated the guilt he felt, and made it harder to put his agents in harm's way. Yet he knew that if he didn't they would see it as a lack of trust in them, much as Cassandra had when he hadn't let her help even before she had gotten hurt, and possibly strike out on their own. Again, as this was, in part, what caused Spoiler's demise, he knew he had to tread carefully with the younger generation.

Another crash echoed around the building and the shadow that was the Bat moved fluidly into motion. He slipped through the shadows like a wraith, a figment of any witness' imagination. He followed the sounds of laughter and destruction until he reached the entrance to room filled with old and rusted industrial sewing machines. He was on the second level, with a ten-foot drop over the balcony to the production floor below. Perhaps he had developed a kind of Bat-radar over the years, or perhaps he simply knew his foe all too well. In either case, he knew instinctively that to step forward would be catastrophic.

Instead, he leapt nimbly up into the air, flipping midway through his arc, soaring over the tripline Joker had rigged up. His motion brought him over the railing of the balcony and he threw out a jumpline to slow his descent and change his direction. He seemed to fly over the machinery below, cape streaming out behind him, looking every bit the creature of the night. His feet came up to brace against the wall opposite of the balcony from where he had just come. The impact should have jarred him, knocked the wind out of him, but years of training allowed him to compensate easily. He pulled himself up to the rafters, blending into the shadows to again wait and watch.

His earlier anger had been directed more towards the situation Tim had found himself in the previous evening. Though the encounter with the Joker's thugs had turned out in a victory for Robin, the injuries he had sustained were more severe than those inflicted by your normal run-of-the-mill henchmen. The hired goons were stronger than usual. Different. More disciplined. Yet one more anomaly in an ever-growing pool of anomalies that suggested Joker was into something different this time. And with the Joker, different nearly always meant more lethal.

There was no movement below in the darkened room, and Batman switched the lenses in his cowl to an infared/night-vision combination, allowing him to search the room for the trap he had sensed. There. At the entrance to the room a thin thread, not too different from the threads still wound through the sewing machines, was stretched taut. Had he walked into the room instead of jumping in, he would have stepped right into it, pulling it and setting off whatever mechanism it was attached to. He followed the thin line with his eyes, tracking it over to the wall, up to where it disappeared into the ceiling. He frowned. He wouldn't know what the trap was unless he could find it.

Another crash made him turn towards a door on the opposite side of the room. No trip-wires were laid here, but he knew it was just as much as trap as the first. He switched his lenses back to the normal starlight setting and dropped down among the machinery. He moved swiftly but silently towards the next room, prepared for anything. As he entered the room he heard a nearly imperceptible _woosh_ and ducked, narrowly avoiding being decapitated by the razor-sharp pendulum. He let his momentum carry him down into a roll and came up on his feet, alert.

"_HEEE-heeheeheehee!_" once again the laugh echoed, sending chills up his spine. The voice was most likely a recording, meant to lure him into the trap, but he couldn't discount the possibility that Joker actually _was_ here. A shadow moved across a far wall and he turned, moving smoothly into a fighting stance. The shadow took on a human form, female, by the looks of it, and then it cart-wheeled away into the next room in this strange labyrinth. He followed quickly; if it was Harley Quinn he didn't want her to escape.

The next room was finally what he had come to expect from Joker. It wasn't any more brightly lit than the other rooms, but the walls were splashed with blinding colors and grotesque clowns and smiles were painted in random patterns across the walls, ceiling, and floor. The room was empty, except for a big purple package tied with a bright green bow and Harley's figure opening a door on the other side of the room.

"Bye-bye, Batsy!" she blew him a kiss and slammed the door even as he prepared to launch himself at her. A blinking red light next to the door, triggered by her closing it, was the only warning he received before the package in the center of the room exploded.

* * *

To be continued...


	8. Is there a doctor in the house?

The bright light of the Batsignal caught Cass's attention as she was making her way home from Bab's. She glared at it, imagining that Batman and Robin and everyone else was out there fighting and she was the only one who wasn't. A faint buzzing in her pocket made her look down. She reached in and pulled out a... cell phone? Where did _this_ come from? She opened it up and almost cautiously put it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Cass?"

"Babs?" her voice betrayed her surprise. She had just _left_ Barbara, why was she calling...and perhaps more puzzling, how had she gotten this phone number?

"Good. I was afraid you wouldn't pick up..." Cass's brain started to catch up with her, and with it, the feeling of being stupid once again. At least this time she hadn't revealed herself to Babs. Of course, Babs had probably put the phone in her pocket when Cass wasn't looking. Why she had to be so sneaky, she didn't know, but...

"...so I think I'm going to need your help." Huh? Whoops, she hadn't been listening. She sighed.

"Can you, um, tell me again?"

"Cass! Weren't you listening to me?!" Cass rolled her eyes.

"No. I was trying to figure out why there was a phone in my pocket. And why you were calling it." There was a moment of silence, presumably as Babs either figured out what to say next or counted to ten to avoid blasting the younger woman with a scathing retort.

"Sorry. I put the phone in your jacket so you wouldn't leave without it, but I forgot to tell you. I thought it would be a good way to get in touch with you outside of the costume." Cass nodded, forgetting for a moment that Babs couldn't see her. She often forgot to use verbal responses in the cowl, too. It was still easier for her to nod or use body signals.

"Ok...?" She still didn't know why Babs was calling now. She had said something about...help?

"_Sigh._ Ok. One more time. I can't get in touch with Batman and even Alfred hasn't heard from him, Robin's in for the night, Nightwing's back in Blüdhaven, and the signal's going off. As the most senior member of the Bat-clan at present, I guess that means I'm going to make the decision to reinstate you a day early. I need you to suit up and get over to the GCPD building ASAP to find out what's going on. I'll keep truing to locate Batman, but he has never been to willing to be 'bugged' with a GPS locator." Cass felt a familiar warmth flow through her at the prospect of going back out as Batgirl.

"Ok." She hung up, not waiting to give Babs a chance to change her mind. She ran the rest of the way back to her apartment, climbed up the outside instead of going in through the front, and suited up faster than she ever had before. The costume felt like a second skin and she relished in the feel of it. Within minutes she was back outside and "flying" towards the police station.

She stopped on the roof of the building next door, checking to make sure it wasn't a trap. The lone figure on the roof of the station wasn't a foe, but he wasn't the person she was expecting either. She knew that after the recent fiasco with the gang war the police hadn't really been amenable to working with costumed vigilantes. Yet there, standing next to the batsignal, was Commissioner Akins. Batgirl double-checked to see if it were a trap, but, seeing no other people hiding nearby, she decided to chance it. Besides, the commissioner's body language didn't imply anything about a trap; some extreme tension, worry, and anger, but no deception.

She shifted around so that her leap from one building to the next would put her behind Akins, moving silently so as not to draw his attention. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth at the thought of startling this officer. She knew Batman had had a kind of friendly competition with Commissioner Gordon on being able to sneak up on him unawares. Since _this_ commissioner was anything but friendly towards the Bat-clan she didn't mind scaring him silly.

"Yes?" she knew she couldn't hope to compete with Batman's low growl, but her sudden appearance at Akin' side and her short, curt query was apparently frightening enough for him.

"What the-!?" he jumped, reaching for his gun, and stopping just short of drawing it. She simply stood their, waiting. He glared at her, started to wipe his brow and stopped, apparently unwilling to give even that sign of unease; instead he dropped his hand back to his side. He gave her a quick once-over, every part of him declaring that he was _not_ pleased with what he saw. "_You're_ not Batman." He sounded sullen, like a child who was denied a treat. Cass decided to fall back on her old method of speaking in single or double word answers, hoping to unnerve him some more. She pointed above them at the light shining in the sky.

"_Bat_-signal," she pointed to herself, "_Bat_-girl." Then, because television had drilled phrases into her that she couldn't resist, she added insolently, "any questions?" The commissioner stared blankly at her for a minute, trying to decide if she was joking. He easily understood her point; any "bat" could answer a "bat" signal, but he didn't have to like it. He wouldn't have lit the signal at all except...

"We received this an hour ago." He held out a small package, about the size of a video tape. Batgirl reached out unhesitatingly and took the package from him. The paper covering it had been tampered with, probably the bomb-squad making sure it was safe before the police station blew up or something, but it was otherwise unopened. A big, gruesome looking bat had been painted on the outside...a bat with a twisted-looking smile smeared across its face. She resisted the impulse to drop it; she had heard enough about the Joker recently to make her wary. But though Akin's didn't like the vigilantes, she didn't think he'd give her a dangerous item, and the police had obviously already checked it out...

She pulled her arm holding the package under her cape, hiding it from view. Akin's was watching her closely, but when she put her chin up challengingly, he broke eye contact. She took the opportunity to disappear back into the shadows.

"We made ourselves a copy but I figured since it's addressed to..." he had only turned for a second, but when he faced the spot she had been she was gone. A scowl darkened his face for a moment, but he shrugged it off. The less information he gave the "bats" the less likely they would be to succeed; and while he in no way wanted Joker or other _crazies_ on the loose, he felt that the GCPD should be the only law and order in town. Batman and his crew were just another side of the _crazy_ coin.

Batgirl made her way to Oracle's clock tower with all possible speed. She wanted to continue to roam as Batgirl, she was _thrilled_ to be back in costume, with the wind in her cape, but she knew Babs had let her back for a reason, and that reason was now nestled between her utility belt and her back. As Cass entered Barbara's apartment the redhead looked up, a hopeful expression in her eyes that died a little upon seeing that the intruder was Cass.

"Any luck?" Cass held out the package. She had taken the time to discover for herself what it contained (only to make sure it _wasn't_ dangerous, really!) and had been a little disappointed to find a simple black videotape. Babs wasn't so inclined to disappointment, it seemed. Her face got a grim look on it, and she took the tape from Cass.

"What?" Babs sighed.

"I _still_ haven't been able to contact Batman. It's unusual for him to maintain radio silence _this_ long, especially with the Joker on the loose. And this..." she held up the tape, "can't be good."

"Why?"

"Because...Joker likes to make a big production of things." She grimaced, glancing down at her chair, and Cass wondered what she was thinking. She knew Babs had been shot by the Joker, and that's why she was in a wheelchair, but that's all she knew of the story. Barbara shook herself out of her self-pity and continued briskly, "He's often commandeered a TV station, or sent a tape like this to the police station to get everyone's attention shortly before attempting to commit some kind of mass attack. It's usually a ransom note, or a lure for Batman into one of his death-traps, though sometimes, I think, it's just for the thrill of scaring everyone in Gotham.." Cass looked down at the tape, still clutched in Babs' hand.

"We should..." she indicated the tape, but Babs hesitated.

"Yeah, we _should_, but... Batman will want to see this, and we need to locate him." Cass shook her head.

"No! We..." she tried to choose her words carefully. Her protest wasn't _entirely_ selfish...though she wanted to stay Batgirl, and help catch the Joker, she also had an altruistic motive: the Joker could be setting off a trap _right that minute_ and they may not have time to find Batman. On the other hand, what if Batman was right and she couldn't fight the Joker? "We need to see the tape, then, if there is time, we find Batman and get help."

"..." Babs looked surprised. Cass wasn't sure if it was because she had contradicted her or because she seemed to be taking charge. For her part, Barbara wasn't sure herself. She knew she tended to overreact where the Joker was concerned... such feelings leading her to cringe from the idea of watching the monster on his tape... but that was understandable considering everything he had done to her. Most of her current concern stemmed from knowing that if immediate action was required, Cass would take it, regardless of the danger. Joker had already destroyed Batgirl once... she didn't want to see him do it again. Still...

"All right, pop it in the machine over there," she waved her hand at a small VCR slot set back into a wall of digital equipment. Cass took the tape from her and slid it into the machine. Babs braced herself, not looking forward to seeing the madman's face in her home, and brought it up on the screen. There was a moment of blackness, then the camera panned back, showing the black screen to actually be a close-up shot of a batarang. Even as the image came into focus, a white hand reached out and painted a big, grotesque smiley face on the back. The hand then picked up the batarang and threw it off-screen. The camera panned out again and the picture widened to show the Joker standing in what looked like a hospital room, wearing a lab coat and stethoscope, with Harley standing behind him in the classic nurse's garb. The painted batarang was lodged in the x-ray viewer on one sidewall, and Joker fiddled idly with a scalpel. He let out a creepy cackle, put down the scalpel, and advanced towards the camera.

"Greetings, Gotham. Joker here..."

* * *

"... I have an important announcement to make: you see, I've discovered that Gotham City is _ill,_ possibly even, 'gasp', _dying_!". It's suffering from a fatal infection, which, if not fixed, could spell catastrophe for our _beloved_ Gotham. But never fear! _Doctor_ Joker is here to save the day! Nurse!"

"You hollered Mistah J?"

"Doctor! _DOCTOR!_"

"Ow ow ow! Uh, right. You hollered Doctah J?"   
"Give me that! Ah. Here. See this chart? It _clearly _shows how the infection has spread, moving

from here... to here...to _here_. Why, Gotham's become a veritable _breeding ground _for these organisms."

"Pause tape." The Joker froze in mid-gesture, the room falling silent. Commissioner Akins

frowned over at the figure standing beside him. He had proven himself time and time again in the past as a true advocate for cleaning up Gotham. The only mark against him, as far as Akins was concerned, was his allowing Batman to ever become a real force in Gotham in the first place. Though their treatment of vigilantes differed greatly, Akins knew that the insight Jim Gordon could provide in the hunt for the Joker would be invaluable.

They had been watching the tape for half an hour, this was the third time they had seen it...Akin's fifth, since he had viewed it before calling Gordon... and it was making less and less sense to him on each repetition. Gordon, on the other hand, held a hand to his chin, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his mustache.

The tape itself had been..._disturbing_ to say the least. Joker had dressed up like a doctor, abused Harley Quinn...why she was in love with the creep was beyond _anyone's_ comprehension... proceeded to use "charts" and "graphs" that were little more than crayon drawings, with random scribbles thrown in. The chart Joker was holding up at the point where they had paused the tape had been a map of Gotham with red scribbles in areas of largest population. Each time he had said "here" he had scribbled some more, until most of Gotham was covered with his demented handiwork.

"Do you see that?" Akins peered closer at the screen where Gordon was pointing. There was a tiny reflection on the silvery leg of the operating table behind the Joker. The reflection was too small and warped to be identified...or so he thought. Apparently Gordon believed otherwise. He studied the image, then sat back. "Hostages." Akin's raised an eyebrow. Of course, if the Joker _were_ at a real hospital, there would likely be casualties and hostages, but, as they had heard nothing from any facilities, he had assumed that it was a mock-up, a set. He turned his head to the side, trying to see what Gordon had seen, to identify the smudge as a reflection of people.

"I don't..."

"It is. This was probably filmed at the set of 'Dark Passage'" he named a new medical drama being filmed in Gotham that twisted the pattern of everyday life in a hospital, showing a supposed "darker side" such as doctors conspiring to do away with patients, nurses who took advantage of the helpless, and directors who blackmailed employees. Its ratings were poor, and the show was sure to be cancelled before the end of the first season...but it _was_ the perfect place for Joker to stage his publicity stunt.

"That _would_ explain why we haven't heard from any of the local hospitals." Akins conceded. Gordon threw him a glance.

"You haven't confirmed Joker's claim?"

"Of course we have!" Akins glared at the ex-commissioner. What, did Gordon think he was a complete simpleton? "We sent out officers to all the local medical facilities. There haven't been any strange cases in the last 48 hours... well, no more strange than usual," he amended. They had been looking for specific discrepancies...an increased number of coma patients or deaths, or any admittees displaying signs of classic Joker toxins.

"Hmmm." Gordon seemed lost in thought. The Joker had claimed that he was "putting Gotham to sleep" referring to the city as a diseased animal that needed to be put out of its misery. Batman had indicated in a meeting earlier that week, one which Akin's wished hadn't have been necessary, that Joker may be developing a new formula designed to induce comas in its victims. This would fit with the idea of a "sleeping" Gotham, but, knowing the Joker, it could simply be a colorful way of threatening the city.

"I'll send a squad out to the set of 'Dark Passages'... Joker's probably gone by now, but there may be clues left." Gordon nodded, absently.

"Perhaps..."

"We're going to have to find him before he can unleash this chemical...Gotham doesn't have that kind of money." Akins knew Gordon was aware of that, but he needed to fill the silence left by his predecessor. Over the years there had been so many ransom demand from various criminals, that the police were well aware that money was most often not really the goal. Usually the object was the destruction of the police, Batman, or both.

"Has..." Gordon hesitated, not sure he wanted to bring up such a delicate subject. "Has _he_ seen this?" Akins tensed, knowing who Gordon referred to. His eyes narrowed.

"The Gotham City Police Department does not require the assis..."

"Oh, cut the crap, Akins. Has he seen it or not?" The current commissioner stared at the former in shock. He knew Gordon had worked with Batman, he, himself, had been forced into aiding the vigilante as well, but he hadn't expected this vehemence.

"I don't know. One of the other ones, Bat_girl_, answered the signal. I gave her a copy of the tape, but I don't know what she did with it after that. I haven't heard from him." Gordon frowned, and what may have been a worried look flashed across his face before he quickly concealed it. He nodded at Akins, and took his leave. Akins watched him until he disappeared down the corridor, wishing he had more to go on than a videotape and information from a vigilante he would prefer be locked up with the rest of the loonies in Arkham.

* * *

To be continued... 


	9. Team Up

"…so good 'ol _doctor_ Joker has come up with a cure! And, what's more, it's _free_! That's right ladies and germs, direct to you via my own _patented_ delivery system, the cure-all for Gotham City. I'll be putting Gotham to sleep…for her own good!" The evil leer that filled the screen nearly made Barbara gag, and she turned away, looking, instead, at Cass, to gauge her reaction. The younger girl seemed entranced, fascinated by the wild antics of the Joker.

"You tell 'em Mis…er, _Doctah_ J!" Harley now piped up again, earning her a nice shiny I.V. pole… chucked right at her head.

"_Quiet!_ This is _my_ show!" He regained his composure and continued. "Just to prove how good-natured I am, I've already given a dose of my treatment to a few hundred people! Of course, if the _rest_ of Gotham doesn't _want_ to take her medicine, all she has to do is deliver one…hundred…_million_ dollars to my very own charity…a _very _worthy cause I like to call Joker's fun money….by midnight tomorrow night! _Harley!_ Tell 'em what to do."

"You got it! Listen up peoples! My puddin' here is low on cash, so you gotta bring all the money to the funhouse at the old carnival on South Street! _OW_!" Harley grabbed her head, Joker having smacked it with a metal bedpan.

"You forgot the most important part! I want a _full_ complement of police officers on the scene to guard my money… it would do for some maniac to _steal_ it! HEE-heeheeheehee!" The tape came to the end and Babs switched it off.

"It's a trap." Babs gave Cass a rather disgusted look.

"No kidding, Sherlock. What was your first clue?" Cass shook her head, ignoring Babs' derogatory tone.

"No, not for the police. That's too obvious. Batman was right… it's… _hard_ to read Joker, but it isn't impossible." She thought for a moment. "He wants the money, so he makes it look like he _doesn't_ want it but wants to kill a bunch of policemen…no, that's not right." She closed her eyes and sighed. "_Very_ hard to read. He… he…" she looked helplessly at Barbara.

"He just wants to hurt people, Cass. Hurt them, maim them, kill them, anything." She didn't even bother to hide the bitterness in her voice. Cassandra considered this, but something was tickling the back of her mind, something important. If only she could figure it out…

"Yes. He wants to hurt and kill…so why make people sleep? An antidote could be found…" Babs shrugged. Neither of them could know that Batman hadn't been able to isolate the chemical from Cass's blood, and therefore finding an antidote could be well night impossible.

"I don't know, maybe he really _does_ want money this time, but I find that hard to believe. Besides, he got the money from the bank, why risk getting captured again with a big production scheme like this?"

"To trap Batman?"

"That's the other thing that's bothering me. Usually he _does_ insist Batman come to wherever he's making a pickup…of course it's always a setup, but Batman knows that going in. This time Joker didn't mention Batman once. And I can't reach him on the…" she trailed off, exchanging a worried look with Cass. The younger vigilante stood suddenly, pulling on her gloves and reaching back for her cowl.

"What do you think _you're_ doing?" Babs wheeled herself over to Cass, snaring her cape in one hand.

"I have to go. Find Batman. Or Joker. Or…"

"No. No no no no no! Do you hear me? No way, no how!" Cass simply looked at her with what seemed like a great deal of patience.

"Who else will? You said yourself…"

"I'll call in Nightwing, or Huntress…" she grimaced at the thought, "or Dinah, she'll be back in a few hours. I'm not letting you go out and…" Cass sighed.

"You won't be 'letting' me do anything. I will take responsibility. You can call in the others, but until they get here I am all you have."

"You're not a detective, Cass." Ouch. That stung. But it was the truth, and she was willing to admit it.

"I know. But…" a sudden beeping indicated that the computer had found something important over the emergency channels. Babs flipped some switches to turn on audio, and a professional-sounding voice filled the room.

"…repeat, we have a fire at 125th and Oak. The Comfort-Select mattress factory… the fire is spreading to neighboring warehouses. All units…" Cass reached over and switched it off again, eliciting a squawk of protest from Babs.

"Cass! What…"

"That's where Batman is." Babs gave her a dubious look.

"No offense, but I don't think…"

"He _is_. Look, Joker is playing doctor, and putting people to sleep. A bed factory…"

"Mattress."

"Whatever…is on fire, and Batman is missing?" Babs really didn't think that there was a connection, Joker usually staked out funhouses and toy factories, not mattress companies, but maybe sending Cass over there could keep her out of trouble until backup arrived.

"All right. Go. But be careful and keep your comm open." Cass nodded shortly and pulled on her mask. Then she was out the window and had disappeared into the night.

* * *

It wasn't until she was a few blocks away that Cass realized her mistake. Though she had learned her way around the city years before, the address given was farther out on the edge of Gotham, where she didn't have a lot of experience. She was going to have to read the street signs, or call Babs, neither of which seemed like an appealing option. She stood on the roof of St. Thomas' Cathedral, high on a spire overlooking the city, and strained to see or hear any sign that would lead her to the factory. Luckily she didn't have to strain too hard… a fiery blaze lit up the sky over near the industrial sector.

Relieved to have figured out where to go, Batgirl slid down the steeple to the edge, intending to leap off into the night. But halfway down she slammed into something and tumbled towards the precipice in an uncontrolled fall. As she flailed about for purchase, something latched on to her hand and stopped her downward plunge.

"You ok?" She looked up in surprise. Robin hauled her to her feet and flashed her a wry grin. "I seem to be asking you that a lot lately." She nodded, but cocked her head to the side, pondering his sudden appearance.

"I thought you were…how did Oracle put it?…'in' for the night." He shrugged.

"Is that how you managed to get back in costume a night early?" She started to answer, to tell him about the tape and Batman's disappearance, but he continued, "Batman sent me home, wanted me to work things out, I guess. I was going to stay in, but I saw the signal and curiosity got the better of me. I, um, _forgot_ to attach my comm to the suit earlier…" he blushed faintly, feeling silly for his earlier panic about his home life and avoidance of Batman. "…so I was heading over to see Oracle to get a new one and find out what's going on when I saw you up here. Didn't mean to get in your way, though."

"S'ok." She hesitated wondering if Robin's appearance would send her back into civilian-land. Maybe, if she didn't tell Babs he was here, she could…

"Batgirl?" Whoops. She had forgotten that Babs had insisted she leave the comm line open. "Is Robin with you?" Cass sighed. So much for Batgirl going out again tonight.

"Yes." A silence met her response and she frowned.

"What?" she indicated her ear, letting Robin know she wasn't talking to him.

"Oracle." He nodded, looking instinctively towards the clock tower.

"Ok, Batgirl? Send Robin over here to get a new comm, then the _two_ of you go check out the mattress factory."

"But you said…"

"I know, I know. I still don't quite follow your logic, but that _could_ be the exact reason to go with it. Joker doesn't seem to have any kind of logic himself, except to cause as much mayhem as possible. Maybe you picked up on something from Joker's movements that is so subtle you didn't recognize it. Maybe you just have the fresh perspective that could break the case. I don't know, but we haven't had any other leads. I'm also starting to get reports from the local emergency rooms of comatose patients. The clock is ticking, so you two check it out, and I'll keep trying to get some backup, ok?" Cass grinned behind her mask. She was still allowed out…all right!

"Come on." She motioned to Robin.

"Where…?"

"Oracle's, for a comm, then there…" she pointed to the burning horizon, "…to find Batman."

* * *

Smoke poured out of the windows as firefighters sprayed gushing water on the blaze. Some maneuvered the massive hoses to areas of maximum danger. Others shouted orders and tried to cut away connections from the burning building to the structures next to it, to slow its progress. So far they hadn't been able to contain the fire, and it was starting to spread towards occupied areas of the city. So far it had only jumped to one other building, but that edifice was an explosion waiting to happen… a warehouse for an airline construction company…one filled with industrial solvents and other chemicals used in fabrication of aircraft of all shapes and sizes.

It was near this building that the activity suddenly became more frenzied as, reacting to some signal unheard by those who had stopped to watch the blaze, firefighters began moving _away_ from the fire with all possible speed. There were shouts to get the civilians away from the area and then a deafening roars drowned out all other sound. The warehouse appeared to shrink as flames erupted violently from the doors and windows and, when those openings weren't enough to relieve the pressure, the explosion ripped the building apart at the seams, breaking the walls into splinters of concrete and molten metals.

"Look out!" A gloved hand shoved at a caped figure, shoving it out of the path of a flying cross-beam. The scorching metal soared past, barely missing the two beings huddled in the shadows. "Are you…"

"Ok?" Batgirl finished wryly. Robin grinned.

"Hey, if the line works…" She shook her head, marveling at his ability to joke even under pressure. Though he was tense, both of them worried about Batman, his posture indicated that he wasn't simply joking to ease the tension. That _was_ a part of it, but mostly he was just in a lighthearted mood, even with the danger. Perhaps he had made up with his dad. She scanned the area, looking for a place to start the search for clues to Batman's whereabouts…or those of the Joker.

"Maybe we should split up." Robin looked dubiously at the inferno before them.

"I dunno…we might need each other as backup…especially if you are right about this being a Joker trap."

"But we cover more ground…get done faster if we split up." He still hesitated, so she pulled out her secret weapon. "If Batman's hurt, unconscious in there…" she let him imagine all kinds of gruesome fates awaiting their mentor should they not find him in time.

"All right. But keep…"

"I know. I know! Keep the comm lines open, et-cetera, et-cetera, et-cetera." He blinked, puzzled by her strange pronunciation and by the choking sound coming over the line from Babs.

"Batgirl, you watch entirely _too_ much TV." Oracle cut in, though her voice was still strained with repressed laughter. Batgirl shrugged.

"Was late at night and I couldn't go out…what else is there to do? It was…interesting."

"I'll bet." Babs sighed, wishing she knew who had gotten Cass addicted to musicals all of the sudden… it seemed the young vigilante had seen about fifteen of them in the last week. Considering the fact that Cassandra usually seemed more serious, the sudden interest in singing, dancing characters was, to put it mildly, odd.

"O-kay…I'm not even going to ask." Robin announced, wisely deciding to avoid being pummeled for stating that the two of them were nuts.

"What… you've never seen 'The King and I'?" Babs inquired with a false sweetness.

"No… and judging from your voice, I don't want to." Babs went off on another laughing fit and Batgirl looked at him curiously. "What?"

"But it was singing and dancing…like in Cinderella, you liked that." He felt his face heat and mentally resigned himself to a painful death. Once Nightwing heard that he had been watching a romantic musical with Batgirl…and he _would_ hear about it, make no mistake…Babs could protect the secret identities of all the world's superheroes, but give her good gossip, especially gossip about someone in the "family" and everyone would know about it within an hour, starting with Dick….he would _never_ hear the end of it.

"Oh-_ho_!" Babs crowed, "_Now_ I know who to blame! You know, I had the argument song about who was going to write the Declaration of Independence from '1776' stuck in my head for _five hours_, thank you very much!"

"Huh?"

"It was history. Good to know." Batgirl sounded so proud of herself that Robin had to shake his head, vaguely recalling a movie shown for extra credit in his American History class.

"Uh…you know they didn't _really_ sing and dance at the Continental Congre…oh what the heck are we talking about musicals for?! Batman could be burning up in there for all we know!" Batgirl had the decency to look abashed, and he could hear Babs over the comm, typing away furiously to cover her sudden lapse.

"Right. You go there, I'll go that way." Batgirl pointed and he nodded, turning away to find a path through the flames. As she watched him disappear into the smoke, Cass allowed herself a slight smile. Poor Tim. He hadn't been too thrilled with her for revealing that he had watched Cinderella with her… probably concerned about Dick's reaction when he found out.

But, though Babs thought the musicals were an odd choice of entertainment for her, she was fascinated by the way the characters managed to make breaking into song and dance a normal part of everyday life. The movements of the dancers were often so intricate, so…so…so _something_ that spoke to her…it was like a whole new language opening up right before her eyes. Here was evidence that people understood the importance of body movements, even if they couldn't understand them like she could. The music, too, was a lot more complex than she would have thought. Perhaps not having a spoken language for so long had made her more attuned to the subtleties of other forms of communications. Whatever the case, she was thrilled with this new form of entertainment. Plus watching the movies let her avoid confronting those blasted books. She hummed a few bars off-key and then got down to business.

The flames had died down in the mattress factory; the firefighters had mostly moved on, trying to contain the many smaller fires that had been started by the warehouse explosion. The smoke obscured her vision as she made her way carefully towards the still smoldering building and she was grateful that her mask included lenses to protect her eyes from the sting. She slid down a collapsed metal walkway and found herself in what seemed to be a production area. She didn't recognize the twisted and warped machines as industrial sewing machines, but she could tell that, with this much equipment, the room had to have been important.

She knelt down, running her fingers along the ground. They came up covered with a wet mush, a combination of soot and water combined with just a touch of still-intact fibers. She stood, glancing around. Babs had been right when she had told Cass she wasn't a detective, but she had forgotten that what Batgirl lacked in detecting skills she more than made up for with enthusiasm and downright stubbornness. She wasn't going to give up until Batman was found, even if she had to simply walk through every single room in the building.

Maybe she shouldn't have insisted that she and Robin search separately; after all, he had the detective skills needed to find Batman, but she hadn't wanted him to see her incompetence. He already knew about her struggles to read and, bless him, he didn't seem to think any more poorly of her for it. But she knew that only so many defects could be overlooked. Sooner or later someone would stop and ask, "Why is she a bat, again? What does she offer, other than a good pair of fists?" A shiver coursed through her. Batgirl was all she had. Without the mask, without her nightly profession, she was nothing.

A noise off to the left startled her and she drew herself instinctively further into the shadows. When no threat manifested itself, she allowed herself to relax a bit. She moved forwards to investigate the sound, though most likely it was simply shifting debris from the fire. After only a few steps she encountered a warped doorframe leading to another pitch-black room. She entered cautiously, alert for any hidden dangers. Taking a small flashlight out of her utility belt she slowly scanned the room. It looked as if the fire had been more intense here; perhaps it was where the blaze had started. The walls were completely charred, many of them with gaping holes where the flames had eaten their way through. Another door at the far end of the room was opened to the night, but fallen beams and still-smoking rubble blocked any path to that door. Gingerly, trying not to risk shifting the wreckage enough to cause a total collapse, she kicked aside some of the looser boards.

Nothing. There was nothing here that looked any different from the rest of the building. All just a black, sooty, mess. If there _were_ clues here, she had no idea how to go about distinguishing them from the rest of the trash. Frustrated, she turned to retrace her steps and tripped. She managed to recover her balance so she didn't fall, and shone her light on the spot, making sure she had simply stumbled on a board or something. She had. But something caught her eye as she once again turned. She moved the flashlight more slowly, trying to figure out what had reflected the light in this dingy heap.

It was a ribbon. A shiny green ribbon that had somehow escaped the blaze. Perhaps it had been protected by the metal beam it was lying under before her stumble had dislodged it. She bent down and retrieved it. Now _this_ was a clue. She looked around again, but still didn't see any other things that could help. She sighed. It was time to call in Robin. He could probably spot twenty clues that she couldn't. But she _had_ found one, so she didn't feel quite so useless.

"Robin?"

"Yeah?" She was surprised to feel the old frustration well up in her. She had grown up comprehending body language instead of words. Before she had learned to understand English she had never worn a commlink. There had been no point. After she understood the words she had lost the ability to read body language, and it had surprised her how much she had relied on that information. Now that she could relate to both forms of communication she occasionally still felt uneasy with communication over the phone or comm. She couldn't see the speaker, so she couldn't interpret any hidden meanings in what they were saying. She _was_ learning vocal patterns, but the body language never lied to her.

Still, why should the resentment rear up now? She realized with a start that she wanted to see Robin's reaction to her detective work. She knew it wasn't an amazing discovery, but she felt the need to know how another team member would look at it. Would he be impressed? Annoyed that it was all she had come up with? Would it even be important? Ignoring the knotted feeling in her stomach that betrayed her nervousness, she told herself firmly that it didn't matter what he thought. She was just worried because of her recent grounding.

"Have you found anything?" There. That ought to help, find out what _he_ knows, then decided whether or not to share her evidence.

"Not really. The fire has pretty much destroyed what clues we might have found." Yes! Oops, she shouldn't be happy that there was a lack of clues. She just felt vindicated that at least if Robin couldn't find any then maybe her shortage was not all her fault after all.

"Well, I think I might have."

"Where are you?" She gave a little smile at the controlled excitement in his voice. For her the rush came when she took out the bad-guys. She knew the others in the Bat-clan felt that rush too, but for some of them, like Robin, the thrill was in the hunt, the investigation.

"Um…" how to describe her location? "In the back, past all the machines, another door…um…"

"Wait…ok, I think I found your entrance. Just a sec." She cocked her head, listening, and within moments Robin appeared in the door she had come through earlier.

"How…?"

"Your footprints in the soot." Oh. Duh. She was glad he couldn't see her embarrassment.

"Here, I found this." She held out the ribbon and he took it. He frowned down at it, then shone his own light around the room.

"Where was it?" She pointed, and he knelt to investigate the surrounding debris.

"I'd say this is where the fire started. Probably some kind of bomb…see how the fallen beams all kind of sag in the middle?" She looked. Sure enough, the pile seemed to be settled in some kind of hole. "That's probably where the blast went off, making a crater. This ribbon most likely came off the bomb…Joker likes to wrap his traps up in paper, or decorate them as a toy, or weird things like that." She nodded, trying to seem like she already knew most of what he was saying.

"So… what now?" He didn't seem to hear her, as he had suddenly moved towards the opposite wall, trying to find a way past the blockage. He was upset, and he hadn't been a minute ago. What had he seen? She peered towards the opposite wall and finally caught a glimpse when a breeze from outside blew through the open door. There, on the edge of a pile of metal beams that obscured any view of what lay beneath them, fluttered a piece of black cloth, crushed between two girders.

* * *

To be continued… 


	10. Fun and Games

"What do we do now?" Robin stood outside on the roof of some anonymous warehouse. Unconsciously he had let his cape settle in around him, shielding his body from view. The gesture was a nervous one he hadn't ever been quite able to shake, though it could be useful when hiding in the shadows; the black fabric of the cape blended in a lot better than the bright red, green, and yellow of his costume. His question had been directed to the larger figure standing nearby. Nightwing had arrived a short time ago, and Robin had filled him in on their discoveries.

"We keep looking." He stated it as if the answer was obvious, and indeed it was, but there was an ominous undercurrent to his tone. Both young men glanced over to another part of the roof, one darker than the place they stood, where another figure crouched in the shadows. Batgirl seemed to have tuned them out, though Robin wouldn't be surprised if she could do so and still understand their conversation.

Her arms were folded tightly against her stomach, her cape fluttering in the wind. She stared unseeingly out across the city. She was taking this hard…too hard. Robin bit his lip. Nearly all the members of the Bat-clan had a tendency to fall into self-blame, especially when dealing with the loss of someone close to them. Batgirl was no exception…in fact, second to Bruce, Cass seemed to have the second strongest sense of self-recrimination of anyone…anywhere. But she needed to snap out of it…put it aside for now. Like Nightwing had said, they needed to keep looking. Both for Joker _and _Batman.

When Nightwing had appeared on the scene Tim hadn't been able to keep the worry from his face. Dick had known something was wrong before Robin even started to speak. Together, with Batgirl managing to lift a rather large about of debris herself, the three of them had shifted and _sifted_ through the rubble. None of them had spoken the dreaded words aloud, not one of them willing to even admit their fears to themselves. But their persistence had paid off. There had been no crumpled body, no death to greet them as they reached the bottom of the wrecked heap. Only the torn fabric, ripped into three pieces, was left as evidence that Batman had been here.

The fabric had not only once been his cape, but also part of the cowl…with a commlink still attached. So they knew there was a possibility that he was out there, alive, and simply unable to communicate. But if that _were_ true, it meant he was unable in more ways than simply missing a comm. He had been silent too long. By now he _should_ have been able to get to a phone or come by the watchtower. But the night was dying and still there was no word.

"Hey, guys?" Oracle's voice broke through the silence. "Hate to break up this little cheer fest, but if you _are_ going to keep looking, you might want to start over at the set of 'Dark Passages'. An…um…_anonymous_ tip came in that that's where Joker filmed his little pharmaceutical ad." She wasn't sure why she kept her dad's name out of it. In fact, she actually wasn't sure why he had come by a while earlier either. He had claimed to be checking up on her, being a loving, concerned parent, but he had let slip a number of items related to the consultation he had participated in at the GCPD headquarters. She had often felt he suspected her involvement with the "cape" crowd, but this was the first time he had been so…well…_obvious_ about it. He had mentioned, in an off-hand manner, that Akin's hadn't heard from Batman. She supposed that, like the members of the Bat-clan, he too was feeling anxious on the subject of the Dark Knight's status.

"I can handle that, O. Any other leads R and B can pick up?" Nightwing kept his tone light, though he could feel a sort of desperation in him to find Batman. Despite their many differences, Bruce really was like a father to him…legally, he supposed, he _was_ a father to him, since he had adopted him a few years earlier. And like any true son, no matter what disputes might separate them, the thought of losing Bruce for good terrified him.

"Um…" there was the sound of typing, then, "Nightwing, we're on a secure line now. I'm not sure we want to send those two out again tonight. This has to have been…traumatic…to say the least." Nightwing glanced at Robin who was eyeing him askance. Babs should have known better than to try to talk behind his back; now the kid was suspicious... and making someone who can figure out one of the world's most guarded secret identities when he was only nine suspicious is never a good thing.

"That's true…" he moderated his tone, trying to stay focused. "But staying active could maybe…uh...help in that…um… area." Though the mask hid his true features, Nightwing could swear Robin just rolled his eyes at him. Then he shrugged and walked over to talk to Batgirl. Nightwing turned, lowering his voice.

"Listen, I know what you're saying, I'm just not sure I agree. I mean, I remember what it was like at that age, and if they feel like they're being cut out of the loop or sent home, they're gonna rebel." The silence on the other end of the line let him know she was considering his words carefully.

"Ok…do _you_ have any suuggestions, then?" He thought for a moment. Batman would _never_ forgive him if he got those two in too much trouble, so he couldn't send them after Joker-related stuff. But he couldn't be obvious about it, either.

"Well, we could…uh oh."

"What?!"

"I think they just made our decision for us." He frowned at the spot that the teenage crime fighters had been on just moments ago and sighed. Had he _ever _been that headstrong? He scanned the city, but saw no sign of them. Nah, he decided with a wry grin, he never would have been as rash as they were… _he'd_ have been worse.

* * *

"They're talking about us." Robin had moved over to where Batgirl stood, hoping to draw her out of the self-imposed shell of recrimination she had drawn around herself. He knew she was going back over her actions to figure out what she could have done differently to change the outcomes. There wasn't anything…but he knew from experience how hard it was to let oneself believe that. Batgirl shrugged in response to his statement.

"So?"

"So they're going to try to get rid of us…you know, send us to cover something small or something." She looked over at him as if confused for a moment, studying his posture and body language.

"You think Oracle and Nightwing are overprotective? So? You want to…what?" He could hear the frustration in her tone and chose his words carefully.

"Listen, I think…" he knew that if they struck off on their own they could get into _big_ trouble, and not just from the criminals. Babs would totally chew them out, Nightwing wouldn't be _so_ bad, but he'd be pissed, and Batman…well if Batman _was_ still alive and he found out that Robin and Batgirl were disobeying, grounding them was the _least_ he would do. Still…the operative word here was "disobeying". If no one _told_ them not to go out, they couldn't really be disobeying, could they? He knew his logic was faulty at best, but he could tell Cass needed to get out there and knock around some bad-guys. Heck, it would make him feel better too.

"Come on." He grabbed her arm and pulled her down, the two of them sliding easily down the roof to the alley below. They couldn't travel by decel line, not right away, anyway, since Nightwing was sure to look for them. He led Batgirl through the alleys, a twisting path that should shake any pursuit. "Turn off your comm." She gave him a funny look, but complied.

"What are we…?"

"Oracle gave Nightwing the location of that movie set to check out for Joker, right?"

"Yeah?"

"If we leave the comms on they can tell us to come back. Right now I think we should do our _own_ investigation, without interference. The funhouse is an obvious target, since Joker wants the money dropped there. Perhaps _too_ obvious… it's going to be a trap. If we know that going in, we have a better chance of surviving." He thought for a moment.

"But…"

"At the very least we may be able to pick up some clues to his current location."

"But…"

"And we will get there well before the scheduled drop off, so we could catch him by surprise."

"But…"

"So we'd better – urk!" He stared at Batgirl in surprise as he rubbed his throat. She had caught him across the windpipe with a quick strike that didn't really damage him, but left him unable to speak.

"Like I was _trying_ to say… what about the police? Won't they be covering that area too? And we need…we _have_ to find Batman…" she cleared her throat, unwilling to get upset, "he's the only one who can figure out an antidote, even if we defeat Joker." Tim coughed, trying to get his voice to work again.

"Gah. Jeez, Cass, warn a guy next time, won't ya?" She didn't answer, though he correctly interpreted her silence as a declaration that she _had_ warned him…sort of. He just wouldn't let her speak. "Ok. First, I know what you're saying about Batman, but our first priority has to be finding and taking out the Joker. It's possible an antidote can be found from his compound, so we'll need to find where he's been creating this stuff as well. Second, it's very likely that if we find Joker we find Batman. Even though he hasn't contacted us, we're going to assume he's still alive, since there wasn't any evidence to the contrary at the factory. He _could_ be unconscious somewhere, but it may be more likely that Joker got hold of him after the explosion and is waiting to kill him."

"Why wait?"

"It has to be elaborate. Don't ask why, I'm sure _I_ don't know why Joker does things the way he does. But we can hope that he's waiting to perform some big production to prove to everyone that he killed the Bat. We don't have a lot of time, though, if that _is_ the case. We will have to sneak in past the police, but I think we can handle that." She nodded, starting to feel excitement building. Finally…they were going to get some _action_.

* * *

The carnival was dark; decaying from years of abandoned neglect. Only one spot in the whole fairway was lit, and that was the funhouse. Outside the dilapidated building a mob of police vehicles and spotlights brightened the scene. Two shadowy figures paused on the outskirts of the light, communicating silently on how best to penetrate the well-guarded area. The fact that Joker had specified this spot as the drop-off for his money, not to mention that he _wanted_ the police there, pointed to an obvious trap of some kind. Most likely the building was rigged with some kind of explosives in an attempt to kill as many members of the GCPD as possible.

That was their mission, now. To find the trap, disarm any explosives, and discover any clues to the Joker's present whereabouts. When the opportunity arose, they took it; swinging from their dark perch on the nearby roller coaster to the roof of the funhouse, unseen by those below. Robin worked open a roof-access hatch and both of them dropped down into the blackness within. Two beams of light flared in the darkness, sweeping over the walls and floor, looking for information. They moved silently through the building, keeping their senses sharp for any sign of danger.

"Over there." Batgirl pointed her light at an opening in the wall that wasn't put there by design. Robin nodded. The hole looked like it had been hacked into the wall by a dull axe, or possibly a _very_ large rat. They hesitated, not wanting to rush blindly into anything. Finally, after a few breathless minutes, Batgirl took the initiative and moved forward. They passed under a tangle of wires, many of them frayed and bare. The opening turned into a tunnel and they followed the path slowly. After what seemed like hours, but was, in truth, only minutes, Robin grabbed Batgirl's arm, halting her forward progress.

"Do you see that?"

"What?"

"Turn off your light." She did so. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness she was able to make out a faint glow coming from somewhere ahead of them. She glanced over at Robin and was surprised at how intent he seemed on the light.

"What…?"  
"Shh." She quieted, reading from his stance that he was focusing on _something_. She wasn't sure what had caught his attention. He motioned for them to retrace their steps and they moved back the way they had come a ways.

"We had better go in as silently as possible. That light may indicate a police team, or it could be the Joker's lair. Either option is potentially dangerous for us." She nodded impatiently, what, did he think she couldn't handle…?

"I know…" He held up his hand to ward off her argument.

"I _know _you know that. I just have to talk out loud some times, ok?" She nodded, albeit reluctantly. She had never gotten to the stage were she was comfortable just talking to talk…she needed to have something to say. "Good. Let's go." They crept forward again, edging their way down the corridor towards the source of the light. As they neared their destination, they heard a faint murmur of voices.

Robin held his hand up, signaling another halt. They had come to a sharp turn, and the light seemed much brighter around the corner, indicating that they may have reached the end of the line. Robin pulled out a small device, reached slowly around the corner, and pressed it to the wall, withdrawing his hand as fast as possible. Batgirl watched with interest as he lifted another object to his eye. She waited, but he remained motionless, so she tapped him on the shoulder. When she had his attention she indicated the gadget, wanting to know what it was. Robin seemed surprised, but then shrugged and handed it to her.

The image she saw when she raised it to her own eye as she had seen Robin do was…odd, to say the least. A large tank of some sort took up most of the space in the room. Around this were arranged about two or three dozen objects, most of which were clown-themed in some way. Wrapped packages, giant jack-in-the-boxes, and life-sized clown dolls made up the majority of the mess. Two shadows could be seen moving on the far wall, though their place of origin wasn't within the range of the remote camera.

"Batgirl…" Robin's whisper brought her back to the present and she lowered the lens. He held out his hand, obviously wanting another look. While he studied the layout of the chamber, Batgirl tried to make heads or tails of what she had seen. She assumed that they had found _some_ sort of Joker-related area…though judging by the funhouse's exterior it _could_ just be a "normal" room…but wasn't sure if it was a trap, a hideout, or even just another decoy.

"HEE-heeheeheehee!" the cackle floated to them from around the corner, sending a shiver up her spine. Even Robin was unnerved as he lowered the remote viewer and tensed.

"I think we found him." An understatement, to say the least, but Robin simply nodded and leaned back against the wall of the tunnel. He took a deep breath, and Batgirl read his movements as preparation for a very unpleasant task.

"I think it's time to turn our comms back on. Call for backup, that sort of thing." She nodded, and mirrored his movements to reconnect the commlinks. A short burst of static made her wince, but it died quickly, followed by an even more ominous sound.

"…don't _know_ where they are. I told you, they turned off…wait a minute. Batgirl, Robin?" Batgirl heaved a deep sigh. She may as well enjoy this night as Batgirl…it could well be her last.

"We're here, Oracle." Robin shot her a funny look. Well, what did _he_ know, anyway? By running off like that they had probably gotten themselves fired. That may not bother him so much, but she had no other identity to fall back on.

"Robin! _What_ did you think you were…"

"Hold it! Hold it!" Robin cut through Oracle's tirade as quickly yet quietly as possible. He didn't want the people, namely the Joker, in the other room to hear. "Yell at us later. Right now, we need some backup. I think we found Joker, at the funhouse. He's setting up…well I'm not exactly sure what he's putting together, but more than likely some kind of trap."

"He's actually _at_ the funhouse?" That was Nightwing. Disbelief penetrated his comment, reinforcing what they all knew…that if Joker was being _that_ obvious, then the risk had just increased at least tenfold.

"Yeah…I think it's him. I haven't gotten a visual, but I saw his shadow and heard his voice. I…"

"Well, well, well. What have we here? A couple of Bat-brats!" Robin barely had time to duck as Joker swung an oversized axe at his head. "Christmas in July!" he crowed gleefully.

"But Puddin'! It's Octob-oops" Harley had rounded the corner behind him, distracting him long enough for Batgirl to land a solid punch on his jaw. Unfortunately, and quite surprising to the young crime fighter, the punch seemed to have no effect other than to off-balance him for a moment. She was vaguely aware of Oracle's voice in her ear, but she had no time to pay attention. Robin kicked out and tripped Joker, pulling out his bo-staff as he moved fluidly into a better fighting stance.

"No fair! Didn't your mommy ever teach you to play nice? _No?_ Well here's a lesson!" Batgirl barely had time to react…Batman had been right, she couldn't predict his movements fast enough…but she leapt into the fray, knocking Robin to the ground as Joker sprayed some kind of fluid from a hidden container at them. The liquid missed them, but came into contact with the rock wall behind them. There was a hissing sound as the wall started to melt.

"Acid!" Robin pushed Batgirl off of him, preparing to fight again, only to find the Joker gone. Batgirl moved to dash after him, but Robin pulled her back. "Wait! What if he _wants_ us to follow? It could be a trap." She considered. It _could_ be. She really _wasn't_ able to interpret Joker's body language. Harley Quinn, on the other hand…

"It may be a trap, but they were really running away. At least Harley was. She…she doesn't know about a trap if there _is_ one."

"You're sure?" she nodded. "Then come on!"

"Don't even think about it!" Oracle's voice was finally breaking through. "Let Nightwing handle…"

"Nightwing isn't here yet! And Joker's getting away. We can stop him, Oracle. We _can_." Robin's insistence seemed to stop her for a moment. Robin took her silence as the "go ahead" and motioned for Batgirl to continue after the clowns. Halfway through the entrance, though, he slammed into her back as she ground to a complete halt. "Oomph. Batgirl, what…?" there was no need to finish his question. The answer was right in front of them.

"Sorry, kiddos! Uncle Joker doesn't have time to play right now, but maybe _this_ will entertain you!" He kicked a switch on one of the Jack-in-the-Boxes and ran out the door. A garish display popped out of the box with a countdown clock running backwards from 1 minute.

"Not a trap, huh?" Robin threw over his shoulder as he prepared to retreat. But Batgirl just stood there, concentrating on something.

"Not a trap. Harley did _not_ think to trap…_us._" With that mysterious pronouncement Batgirl launched herself into the air, flipping over to bounce off some of the cluttered objects and landing agilely on the edge of the large tank in the middle of the room.

"Batgirl, we don't have time for…" he threw himself towards the counter, preparing to disable a bomb. But there were no explosives. Only a thin wire that led up, up, up…he followed it with his gaze and finally saw what Batgirl had figured out. Up near the ceiling was a dark object, suspended over the tank, which Robin assumed was filled with some sort of acid or something. The wire from the clock was attached to a large iron pike, around which was wound the chain holding up the…whatever it was. When the clock reached zero, the pike would be pulled out, dropping whatever was attached into the tank. And, judging by his knowledge of Joker's past behavior, there was only one thing that object could be.

* * *

To be continued… 


	11. Life and Death

"Be careful, that's probably acid!" Babs listened to the chatter between Batgirl and Robin in frustration. The funhouse was old enough that there weren't any security cameras for her to tap into, so she had to rely on their reports, which were becoming fewer and farther between. When she got her hands on those two…

"I'm not stupid!" Babs winced. She knew she had probably been the one to create such a low sense of self-esteem in Batgirl when it came to intelligence…always pushing her to learn to read, not to mention outright calling her stupid…and if her tone was any indicator, Cass was developing a _major_ tendency towards overreaction any time the subject came up.

"I didn't say you…wait!" There were some loud crashes over the comm and Babs had to grip the arms of her char tightly to keep from demanding to know what was going on. She couldn't afford to distract them right now. She didn't know what sort of surprise Joker had left for them, but they were obviously running on some kind of time limit.

"Stop it!"

"I _can't_ stop it, you're going to have to catch…"

"_OKAY!_ Shut up!" Whoa. If those two made it out alive she was going to _have_ to find out what had gotten Cass so riled up. She turned down the volume slightly, turning to open another channel.

"Nightwing, I think they _really_ need backup down there, what's your ETA?"

"Give me a minute, willya? I'm at the carnival main entrance, but, hold on…" Babs ground her teeth together. "Had to avoid the police. I'm in the funhouse, just give me a…"

"Batgirl! _NOW_!" Babs jumped, startled. She hadn't turned the volume on Robin or Batgirl's comms all the way down, but he had to have been bellowing pretty well for it to have been that loud on her end. There was a scream of stressed metal and a crash.

"What was…?" Nightwing's question broke off as he rounded a corner and saw the chaos beyond. "Never mind."

"Don't 'never mind!' What's going on?!"

"I thought you already 'knew all'."

"This is no time for jokes!"

"Sorry." But he didn't sound too repentant and she hoped that meant he could see the situation and everyone was ok.

"So…?" She waited, but when he spoke again it wasn't to her.

"Man! You two sure know how to make a mess. Better not let Alfred see." Babs shook her head. Well, it sounded like everything had turned out ok, though the Joker _had_ gotten away again. At least everyone was accounted for…well, except for…

"Hey, I seem to recall a few occasions where _your_ room was none too clean… at least we have a legitimate excuse!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Stop." Though Babs couldn't see, Batgirl had been half-buried under a collapsed heap of rotten wood and building materials. Robin had been trying to help her dig out when Nightwing had come upon the scene. The older man's good-natured teasing had sparked a brotherly spat, and Batgirl was having to make her way out of the rubble herself. She shook her head at them in disgust. "Boys are so dumb."

"You tell 'em, girl!" Babs knew she shouldn'tencourageher, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Hey! That's not what you said the other night!" Babs felt a blush staining her cheeks. Trust Dick to make it sound worse than it was.

"Oh _really?_" Great. Now Tim was curious.

"Hey! Hello? Help." What was that about? Babs hadn't thought there was any more immediate danger…and though Cass' tone was urgent, it wasn't desperate.

"Oh! Duh!" There was a rustle and Babs groaned. She hated being blind. Down in the funhouse Robin and Batgirl struggled to get the fallen object out from under the same mound Batgirl had been trapped under.

"Is that…?" It was a roughly human-sized sack, tied at the top. Nightwing took out a modified batarang, shaped a little thinner, more like his mask, and slit through the cloth with ease. The bag parted cleanly, revealing an unconscious Batman inside, his mask still on, though part of it was missing, still attached to the cape they had found at the warehouse.

"Damn." Nightwing felt for a pulse, relived to feel it beating under his hand.

"What!? What is it?"

"Call Alfred, have him get the cave prepped for…" he hesitated. "um… well, for medical purposes, though I'm not sure exactly what we're dealing with. It's Batman, but he's unconscious. Could be he's gotten dosed with Joker's new formula, or he could be suffering a concussion or something" Babs felt a wave of relief, followed swiftly with a new worry. Batman was alive but down for the count. And who knew how long he'd stay that way?

* * *

The silence was deafening. A phrase she'd heard once, but never understood until this moment. Normally in the Batcave there would have been _some_ sounds, Batman or Robin working out, the click of the computer keyboard, Alfred's distinct footsteps, even just the rustle and occasional squeaks made by the bats in the deeper recesses. But tonight there were none of those sounds. The bats had gone out on their nightly hunt and everyone else…well, everyone was crowding around the hospital-style bed in which Batman lay unconscious. The room was an artificial one, created specifically for medical purposes when the cave was first "built" by Batman. With the door closed it was virtually soundproof, and as far away from that room as Cassandra sat, any sounds that might have penetrated were unable to reach her ears.

She sat alone, silently running through the events of the night in her head. Batman gone AWOL, her trip to the police station as Batgirl, Joker's tape, Robin, the factory, the funhouse, the… she heaved a sigh, the sound seeming to echo throughout the cavern. Though they had quickly chased the idea that Batman had perished in the factory explosion out of their minds, Cass couldn't quite shake the feelings that had pierced her innermost being when they had first found the cape. There had been a sense of loss, of course, and pain. But what had surprised her was the total _lack_ of thought that had accompanied these feelings.

Even when she had had no language, when she was pure movement, Cass had been _aware_ in some way…some kind of mental process had been going on in her brain. But she had never before felt…empty. Not having lost someone really important to her before, and not being raised among "normal" people, it was impossible for her to know that this reaction was actually a quite common way of coping. True, Stephanie's death had hurt, as they had been friends of a sort…playing rooftop tag and helping her with her fighting had been fun. But Stephanie had never really seen past Batgirl. She had tried to out do her, had talked to her sometimes, but as soon as someone else was willing to train her she had left her all alone again. And, since Cass _knew_ that Stephanie hadn't considered her a close friend, she had never really let her feelings get too deep either.

But the thought of _Batman_ dying…it had locked up all reactions inside. He was just as distant with her as Stephanie had been, more so, in fact, but he was a father figure…a better father than Cain had ever been, certainly. She had felt as if his death would be the end of her world. She couldn't move, she couldn't fight…to her it felt like failure, and all the training she had endured, both with Cain and Batman, told her she must find this weakness and eliminate it.

She had tried working out, starting with a simple kick/punching bag to work out her frustrations, but after only a few minutes she had found the bag torn to shreds. She hadn't realized how hard she had been attacking it, and this frightened her, perhaps more than the strange empty feeling. She knew too many ways to hurt of kill someone to lose control like that. Her talents had always been a fine balance between power and technique, and her ability to hold back was what separated her from Cain and other killers.

So she had sequestered herself away from the others, hoping to push the numbness out of herself and, hopefully in doing so, regain control of her abilities. She tried meditation, but found that her mind wouldn't cooperate and instead focused on her failures.

"Hey Cass." She looked up at Robin's…no, _Tim's_; he had removed the mask…approach. She looked back along his path and realized he must have seen the demolished bag. She felt heat burn her face and looked away.

"Hi." The answer was short and cold, hoping to discourage him from talking to her. Tim sighed and sat down next to her.

"I, uh, saw your handiwork in the other room…" _here it comes_, she thought, _the fear, anger…disgust_. "…not sure what the bag said to you, but I'm sure it deserved it." She looked over at him questioningly. A joke? He had a half-smile on his face, like he was trying to be cheerful for her sake. She looked back down at the ground.

"No." He sighed again and become more serious.

"Cass… you want to talk about it?" She shook her head. "Ok…well would you be willing to listen while _I _talk about it?"

"Why?"

"Why? Because talking about an experience, especially a bad one, can really help. It makes you feel better…ok it makes _me_ feel better, and most people too. It lets us see that we aren't as alone in our feelings as we think we are. And possibly that what we're afraid of is really casting a bigger shadow than it deserves." She thought about this for a moment.

"You mean you have bad feelings about tonight? But you didn't…didn't…"

"I didn't what?" She scrunched up her face in concentration.

"You didn't fail." It came out as a whisper, so soft he nearly didn't catch it.

"Fail? You…you think you _failed_ in some way?!" She refused to look at him…refused to see if his incredulity was real or only a vocal performance out of some sense of … of _something._ "Cass, I don't know how you could think that. You managed to figure out what Joker was up to, even though you didn't have the clues or the training. You looked at Harley and just…_figured it out_. I didn't even know what you were doing until I tried to disarm the timer. You saved Batman. Don't you get it?" This time she did look up, a question furrowing her brow.

"But I _didn't._ I was wrong. I said we should follow them, that there was no trap. Yet there _was._"

"Not really. Harley is probably a little flaky like the Joker, hard to read, right? And there _wasn't_ a trap…not one that could stop us if we had chosen to run after them instead of stopping the clock. So she was right to be afraid, and you knew that. When Joker activated the countdown, you figured out that it wasn't a bomb. I didn't. I still tried to disarm it, thinking if I didn't we were all going to blow up." She shrugged with indifference and he eyed her thoughtfully. "But what did or didn't happen at the funhouse isn't what's bothering you, is it?" She shook her head miserably. "What is, then?"

"I…" how could she put it into words? "At the factory, I… I couldn't _do_ anything." She could tell he didn't understand. "When we found the bomb…and then there was Batman's cape…and…" she gestured helplessly, "I couldn't do anything." Comprehension lit his face.

"Because you thought Batman was dead?" he asked gently. She nodded, kicking a piece of broken stone down into a bottomless crevice. "And you think this means you failed?" She nodded again, feeling like a bobblehead toy she had seen at a souvenir stand in downtown Gotham. Tim looked away, lost in thought. She dared to peek at him and could tell that her dilemma had started him thinking about something very serious. But she wasn't sure it had to do with her…it seemed more like he was lost in the past, a memory.

"I…" he turned suddenly, an intense look in his eyes.

"Cass, do you ever think about Stephanie?" Ummm, ok. This was a strange question. She knew that Tim and Stephanie had dated, but he hadn't ever brought the subject up before. Then again, she _had_ been thinking about Stephanie just minutes ago…comparing her reactions.

"Sometimes, why?" He shrugged.

"Well, I guess I hadn't thought about how you may view death before. I know I was, um…pretty upset. And I hadn't thought how her death might affect others. I mean, sure, Bruce took it really hard, and he's still pushing people away, but no one ever just _talked_ about it." There was something, some deep pain in his voice, and Cass couldn't help wondering…

"Did you…were you…"

"Was I in love with her?" She blinked, surprised at his wry tone. "I don't know. I guess at one time I was. I had pretty much realized it was time to break it off before the gang war ever got started, but I never got around to it. Then, afterwards…" his shoulders drooped. "I felt guilty. Really _really_ guilty."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Probably because I thought if I had loved her, or loved her better, or maybe if I had been honest and broken up with her when I should have then she would still be alive."

"That's silly. It wasn't your fault. Stephanie still thought of everything as a game. She didn't understand life…and death."

"I know that. And deep down I think even Bruce knows the same thing about his involvement, though he will never quit blaming himself either. But that's what I mean. You understand what death means." She winced, but he didn't notice and continued. "But I think even with knowing what's at stake, you haven't really _experienced_ death before, have you?"

"I…"

"Wait. That came out wrong. You haven't, like, had someone you really cared about die. Unless you were closer to Steph than I knew. I was kinda out of it at the time and didn't see your reaction." She frowned, pondering his words.

"I…I was sad. But, more from a distance. Like a movie. We weren't…close." He nodded, encouraging. "I felt some guilt too…I _knew_ she was in trouble, I had a feeling the whole war was somehow connected to her, but Batman said he knew and we didn't have time to go find her. I should have made sure she couldn't go out in it." She gave a little smile at the memory of knocking Spoiler out when Bruce had been accused of murder. She had done it twice to examine something without the other girl's interference. At the time she had thought it was funny. Now she wished she had thought to do something similar during the gang war.

"I think we all felt a little guilt. Even Alfred." She nodded. Poor Alfred…though he understood the drive in his "charges" to fight the evil in the world, he also disapproved and he was caught in the middle of wanting to protect them and letting them proceed in their quest.

"Ok, but what does Stephanie have to do with…"

"With tonight? I guess it was a roundabout way of pointing out that your reaction is perfectly normal. Everyone deals with loss in his or her own way. Some rage, some cry, some go numb inside. While it never gets easier…each time you lose someone you care about is going to hurt…it _does_ become a bit… well, subdued, I guess. I lost my mom shortly after becoming Robin. But I was young enough and there were people around me who cared about me that I was able to heal.

So with Stephanie I was able to grieve, but also get on with life. You haven't ever had to come to that point before. You think you failed because you were grieving. But that just shows you that you're human, that you have let yourself care about someone _that_ much. And I think that caring is the most important part of our job. The hardest, yes, because there _is_ the potential to lose friends and loved ones, but still the most important. If we don't care about the people we work with and protect, what is the point of doing so? Glory? I know Bruce tries to pretend he doesn't care, that he's emotionless, but I know he really cares possibly more than anyone. So feeling numb or unable to react when you thought Batman had died is really a _success_."

He finally stopped talking and Cassandra stared at him. Where _did_ he get all those words? But while part of her mind was mulling over that question, the majority was chewing on what the words had _meant_. A sound from the other part of the cave made both of them look towards it. Tim stood and turned to her.

"Come on, let's go. You don't _really_ want to stay here all alone, do you?" She shook her head and he reached down to help her up.

"Wait." She paused and he looked at her enquiringly. "I…thanks." She seemed uncomfortable, and he wondered if she had ever really had a true heart to heart chat with anyone before.

"No problem." She fidgeted a moment, then suddenly reached out and hugged him. She was gone, hurrying back to the main area, before he could react. He blinked after her, not entirely sure what had just happened, then shrugged to himself. He was just glad he'd been able to help. But, though he refused to think about the implications, he couldn't help whistling a little as he followed in her tracks.

* * *

To be continued… 


	12. Busted!

"No, whatever he's up to, it's bigger than a ransom." Bruce Wayne, clothed in a simple robe…his other outfits having been forcibly removed from his grasp by a very irate Alfred when he had tried to get up and back to work… sat back against the pillows piled up behind him in his extremely oversized bed. He had awakened from his unconscious state early that morning, only hours after he had been found. Though he had a small amount of short-term memory loss, only the few minutes leading up to the explosion in the factory, the common consensus among the Bat-clan was that he must have been hit in the head by the falling debris after narrowly escaping the blast itself. The Joker, who would have wanted to stick around and see if he had finally managed to kill the Batman, probably had decided it was more fun to prolong the death and had carried him off to the funhouse to die more painfully in a vat of hydrochloric acid. The remnant of cape and cowl left on the scene must have simply been trapped too tightly so Joker had ripped it off.

"Well, no kidding. But the question is can we stop him before he pulls it off?" Dick sprawled in a plush chair nearby. He hadn't said anything about Batman's near death…there had been too many of them over the years to really get worked up over each and every one of them…but he was still shaken up enough to want to stick around for awhile. He knew there wouldn't be any "bonding" or "quality-time"… Bruce was too good at closing people out. But they could work on this case… puzzle it out like the "old days".

"No, the question is _what_ is he up to? We can't stop him if we don't know that." Dick rolled his eyes. Trust Bruce to have to have the last word in any argument.

"Well, we know his formula can cause comas, he said as much himself, plus Babs said the hospitals were starting to see a bunch of cases…mostly homeless people, which could explain the delay…no one to notice them…but there were a lot of police hit at the funhouse last night, too. We need to get the antidote over to them and…

"There isn't one."

"What?"

"An antidote…I haven't been able to create one." Dick stared at him in disbelief.

"But…Cass got hit, and you brought her out of it."

"I used a basic all-purpose type of formula, based on properties common in Joker's creations. But I'm not sure that that's what caused her to wake. The chemical only got into her system by being on the razor card Joker threw. It's possible that there wasn't enough on it to maintain a constant catatonic state. Or, it could be that the toxin isn't as potent unless it's inhaled…not a likely scenario, but a possibility nonetheless. The chemical was too decomposed in her system…it seems that it was able to be broken down in Cassandra's blood, even as it still affected her, so that any attempts to develop a cure from a victim won't work. We have to get a sample of the formula itself."

"Great. No problem. Piece of cake. Really." Bruce simply waited for Dick to finish his rant. Something was teasing the back of his mind…something that he should recall, that could help break this case. But, of course, try as he might, he couldn't get a solid grasp on it. Unfortunately, while his was a mind that was very good at single-minded pursuit, it wasn't very good at going on to other tasks in the hope that it would just come to him.

"Good morning, Master Bruce, Master Richard." Alfred's cheerful tone caused the two addressees to exchange a wry glance. Alfred always seemed sunniest when one or more of them were unable to go out on Bat business. Of course, that was with the ever so minor condition that they were still alive, and not _too_ beat up, to _try _to go out at night.

"Morning, Alfred." Bruce's voice descended closer to Batman's gravel. Too often, it seemed, Alfred's pleasure mirrored Bruce's _dis_pleasure. In this case his incapacitation was going to hamper the search for Joker.

"Hey Alfred." Dick, on the other hand, appeared to enjoy the subtle clash of wills between the two men who were like fathers to him. Alfred was carrying a tray laden with foodstuffs that smelled absolutely _divine_. "Got any more downstairs?" the question was accompanied by a suspiciously puppy-like look that had never yet failed to get him his way.

"Of course, sir. I have laid out a full breakfast in the dining room. Although I believe Master Timothy is probably demolishing it as we speak."

"Tim's here?" That was odd. Tim had returned home after Batman had woken up in the early predawn hours. Dick had figured he'd still be sleeping.

"I didn't ask, but I got the impression he is still suffering from familial issues." Dick considered, then nodded. Yeah, poor kid. He probably needed some good old-fashioned brotherly tormenting to pull him out of the doldrums. Having made up his mind, he sprung agilely out of the chair.

"Don't give him _too_ easy a time, Alfred" he called over his shoulder as he made his way out of the room. Bruce simply grunted, receding back into his dour mood, but Alfred smiled at the younger man's high spirits.

"They shouldn't have been out there, Alfred." He received only silence for his trouble, and he interpreted it as disapproval. "They shouldn't have been fighting Joker. Especially Batgirl, she wasn't supposed to…"

"What should or should not have happened is irrelevant, Master Bruce." Alfred cut him off. "What has happened, happened. Now we can learn from mistakes, but we cannot undo the past." Bruce regarded him steadily.

"I would have thought you, of all people, would have been backing me up on this."

"I have never quite approved of your nightly activities, sir, you know that. But over the years I _have_ come to see that they may indeed be necessary. If not for Gotham, then at least for you and…" he sighed, "and those who work with you." The last part was added with great reluctance. "Though I am loathe to admit it, having been against the thought of children going out and fighting crime from the beginning, I cannot deny that it has had a strangely positive effect. I cannot like the pain, and the losses of Master Jason and Miss Stephanie are obviously tragedies from which I hardly expected to recover. Yet I see a light in these young people…they have taken the pain and sorrow of the world and are working to better it. They know, perhaps more than you realize, the risks involved, and yet they continue.

You blame yourself for the deaths of Miss Stephanie and Master Jason, but I feel that without your guidance, they would have perished long before they did, or perhaps they would have lead somewhat longer but harsher lives, possibly turning into the very beings you pursue on a nightly basis. Master Richard brought a light into this house that hadn't been seen for years, shining even through his own tragedies. Miss Cassandra was brought into the fold by Miss Barbara, but her enthusiasm is surpassed only by her skills. Master Timothy sought _you_ out, determined that the legend of Batman and Robin not die. This only speaks to the fact that your mission is important, that it is working, no matter how I may despise the effects it has on you. I cannot feel any joy at facing broken bones and bloodied wounds. It nearly destroys me when any of you come to harm. And the emotional traumas… the distance you have placed upon yourself from the rest of the human race is something that I would gladly demolish if given the opportunity.

But Gotham needs Batman, and, as much as I may regret it, Batman needs his partners. Robin, Batgirl, Nightwing, Oracle. Take away their quest and you destroy them. Much as it would destroy _you_, I imagine." He finished his impassioned speech quietly and set the tray on the table next to the bed. Then he turned and walked silently from the room, leaving Bruce with a great deal to think about.

* * *

The room was silent, almost depressingly so. Tim sat at the large dining room table wondering why Alfred had put out so much food for just him. He also wondered why exactly he had come to the Manor this early after getting in so late last night. Probably, he decided, because he had heard his dad and Dana arguing…about him no doubt…before Dana had left the apartment and his dad had relocked the door to his room. He pushed some scrambled eggs around his plate with his fork absently, his head cradled in his other hand.

"Why Timothy Drake, I'm _shocked_! Positively discombobulated! Elbows on the table, young man?! What kind of manners are those? I'm…I'm so proud." Tim didn't move from his slumped position, though he _did_ roll his eyes, as Dick sat down in the chair next to him, wiping away an imaginary tear. At least one of them seemed to have a good appetite, he noted, as Dick began piling food on his plate with gusto. Maybe that's why Alfred had made so much… he sighed, and instantly regretted it.

"Ooh, I think wittle Timmy needs some cheering up!" Dick immediately reached out with his spoon and collected a large glob of jelly…_grape_ jelly, if you can believe it…and aimed the loaded spoon at Tim's head. "I'll give you ten seconds to come up with a funny joke or else …" Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah right. I don't know what Alfred would do to someone who got grape jelly all over the formal dining room, but I don't think it would be pretty."

"That's why you'd better start talking, junior."

"No way. You'd never do it." Dick pulled back the head of the spoon in preparation.

"This is you last chance!"

"I'm calling your bluff, bro."

"Five…four…three…"

"Don't you dare!"

"Two…one…_fire_!" Tim ducked, dreading the sound of a purple _splat_ on the wall behind him, but none came. He peered over the edge of the table suspiciously. Seeing the gooey mass still on Dick's spoon he straightened.

"I _knew_ you'd never do it." Unfortunately it seemed that his tone was just a _tad _too smug for Dick's tastes. Even as the words left his mouth the purple gel spattered across his face, dripping off his nose. He blinked, wiping his face with his hand, and stared in dumb shock at the grape jelly that came off on his fingers. He looked back up at Dick, a strange light in his eye.

"Now wait a second… don't forget Alfred! Hey! Wait!!" Dick managed to duck the eggs that sailed towards his head. He wasn't so lucky with the gravy. "Oooh, you're gonna get it!" And in that instant an all-out food fight commenced. Halfway through an elaborate maneuver meant to launch a biscuit at Dick's head, Tim became aware of another presence in the room. Fearing that Alfred had discovered them he jerked to a stop, costing him a large glob of butter in his ear.

"Eeyyech! Dick!" He turned, expecting the horrified tones of disapproval from the stately butler, and was pleasantly surprised to see Cassandra standing there, a look of bewilderment on her face. It occurred to him that she had probably never taken part in a food fight, since she hadn't really ever been in a situation that would allow it.

"What are you _doing_?" The two young men, covered from head to foot with various breakfast foods, exchanged a look. All at once the battle lines had shifted. This deficiency must be remedied…immediately. Cass may not have understood what a food fight was, though it _had_ looked like they were having fun, but she certainly recognized the glint in their eyes and the subtle changes in their body language a moment before they attacked. She tried to avoid them but she hadn't ever tried to maneuver on a floor slick with gravy and butter. Her feet went one way, her head went the other, and she landed with a _squish_ in an inelegant sprawl right in the middle of a strawberry danish.

She looked at her hands, now goopy with food, and examined the pastry now adorning her posterior, and then glanced back at the two mischief-makers. She pulled herself to her feet and narrowed her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Uh-oh…!" Tim was right…she attacked will all her skills, and the three of them launched once again into a free for all.

* * *

Alfred hadn't returned downstairs immediately upon exiting Bruce's bedchamber. He had instead set about straightening up some items in Dick's old room. The fact that the young man had come all the way from Blüdhaven to help find Batman, not to mention the fact that he had stayed around even after Batman had woken up, gave Alfred reason to hope that he would be here a little longer than usual this time. So he readied his old room with a cheerfulness that betrayed his high expectations.

So it was that as he made his way down the grand staircase the sound of laughter reached his ears. It was a good sound, one that hadn't been around in the Manor for far too long. He allowed himself a smile as he recognized each of the voices…it looked like Master Richard had indeed been able to lift Master Timothy's spirits. A higher pitched giggle made him raise his eyebrow. Apparently Miss Cassandra had stopped in as well. As he neared the sound, a warning bell went off in the back of his mind…some of those noises were beginning seem a little more…rambunctious than he would normally encourage in the main part of house. Such exercises were best left in the cave. He quickened his pace when he heard a shriek and a crash.

"Oh sh-!" The exclamation was cut off suddenly, as if someone had clapped his or her hand over Master Timothy's mouth.

"Oh man, there's no _way_ he didn't hear that!"

"Hurry!" His mouth set in a grim line, Alfred steeled himself for what promised to be an unfortunate scene on the other side of the dining room door. He supposed that youthful enthusiasm could be excused, but the crash he had heard sounded suspiciously like something breaking…more than likely a priceless antique that would be impossible to replace. But even these thoughts failed to prepare him for the complete fiasco that awaited him.

"What on Earth…!?" He came to a halt just inside the dining room doors. It was a scene out of his worst nightmare…well, at least out of his second worst nightmare; he had actually _lived_ his worst nightmare on all too many occasions, starting years ago with the deaths of Dr. and Mrs. Wayne. Three figures completely covered in food were crowded around what had once been a china platter that had been in the Wayne family for over six generations. Three heads turned guiltily at his outburst; three pairs of eyes were unable to meet his own.

Besides the broken platter the room was completely trashed…there was food on the walls, on the floor, on the ceiling. Some enterprising person had even managed to wedge a muffin between two spokes of the chandelier. Alfred closed his eyes, thinking that perhaps it was all a bad dream and that when he opened them again everything would be as pristine as ever. It was too much to hope for. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to find words to relate his feelings on the matter to the three heathens in front of him.

"Bus-sted." Cass elbowed Dick in the stomach, effectively shutting him up. Tim was looking a little green beneath the colorful paste that coated his face. Cassandra herself had never experienced Alfred's wrath, but she had a feeling, judging by his rigid stance, that it wasn't going to be a… _pleasant_ occurrence.

"Um…we'll clean it up?" Alfred's eyes narrowed and she swallowed hard. When it came the voice wasn't loud, as she had expected. Instead there was an almost deathly quiet to his tone that made his pronouncement all the more powerful.

"Indeed you will. You will start by cleaning yourselves. You all should have changes of clothes down in the cave. I do not want to see any of this mess in any other part of this house. You will return this room to the _exact_ way it was. You will then proceed to clean _every_ room on this floor. If it is not done correctly, you will do it over and then you will do the rooms on the next story. Should you fail to clean _that_ up properly, you will be assigned the next _two_ stories. Understood?" Three heads bobbled in confirmation, no one willing to speak up. "Good." He pointed out the door and Tim and Cass hurried out. But Dick remained behind.

"It was my fault, Alfred. You really shouldn't be so hard on them." Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed? I trust you have not developed some kind of mind-controlling super power that I am unaware of?" Dick shook his head reluctantly. "Then they may take responsibility for their own actions. As for you, I am sorely disappointed in your lack of judgment. One would have thought you'd been raised better." Dick winced, hearing some self-disappointment in his tone. Which, of course, was ridiculous…as Alfred was well aware. He was simply trying to make a point. Dick sighed.

"Yeah. I know. I just saw Tim sitting there so glum and thought to cheer him up and it got _way_ out of hand. I guess we forget that being so active on a daily, well nightly, basis isn't normal…and we included our talents in the food fight, and….well I think you get the picture."

"Indeed."

"And, you know, Cass has never had a food fight!"

"Amazing." Alfred said dryly. Dick had to admit that it was quite likely that _he_ had never had one either.

"So then, of course, we had to introduce her to the pastime and it started all over again." Alfred shook his head. Now that the shock was wearing off he supposed that he should be grateful that the young people were in such high spirits. And he would give a great deal of money to have a photo of the looks on their faces when he had walked into the room. A smile tugged at his mouth and he quickly squashed it, clearing his throat.

"Thank you for the explanation. I think, though, that you may want to hurry with your changing, as those two probably won't be to thrilled with the idea of starting without you." Dick hurried off, visions of retribution flitting through his mind, and Alfred allowed himself that smile. Now that he didn't have to worry about today's cleaning, what _was_ he going to do with his time?

* * *

"Ick."

"Well, that's kinda the point."

"It's _still_ ick." Cass and Tim were in the Batcave, trying to remove as much of the caked on food as possible before changing into clean clothes. Tim had stuck his head under the sink in the bathroom to get some of it out of his hair and off his face, but Cass was stuck sitting on the floor trying to comb bits and pieces out of her hair with her fingers. She wasn't having much luck. "I need a shower."

"Yeah, well…probably want to wait until after we clean everything up. You'll just get all 'icky' again." He said this with a teasing laugh but she just glowered at him.

"This is all your fault."

"It is not! Dick started it!"

"But you attacked me first."

"We attacked you at the same time!" she shook her head.

"You _thought_ about attacking first." She gloated over this as he tried to come up with a retort.

"Yeah, well…."

"Children! Children! Let's play nice, here." Tim raised an eyebrow at Dick's interference.

"Says the man who threw grape jelly at me." Dick shrugged easily.

"I gave you fair warning." Cass took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom where she could change clothes and try Tim's trick of washing the gunk out of her hair in the sink. She had to admit, the food fight _had_ been fun, if messy. And it had given her the opportunity to work off some steam…she was still feeling keyed up over last night's run in with Joker and Batman's near-death. She emerged in less than five minutes, which earned her some comments she didn't quite understand about girls taking too long in the bathroom from the guys…although they seemed to think she was faster than most girls.

She shrugged and headed back upstairs while they changed and washed up. She had come to the Manor today to talk to Bruce…he had said he wanted to talk to her after he had woken up earlier that morning…and she thought she may be able to squeeze in a conversation before the other two returned to start cleaning. She made her way up the main staircase, keeping a sharp eye out for Alfred, not wanting to get into more trouble. She made it to Bruce's room without incident, then hesitated. Talking to Batman was one thing, entering Bruce Wayne's bedroom was something else entirely. Taking a deep breath, she knocked quietly.

"Come in." She pushed the door open just a crack and poked her head inside. Bruce was sitting up in bed looking over some kind of papers. "Cassandra." She fought back a grimace and entered all the way into the room.

"I…" now that she was here, she didn't know what to say. But that was ok, because he seemed to understand. Neither of them had ever needed words to communicate to each other. He didn't seem angry, and for that she was grateful.

"I wanted to talk to you about last night." She nodded. "You weren't supposed to go out as Batgirl until tonight." This time she shook her head and started to speak. He cut her off. "It's all right. Barbara explained the situation. I assume you have had time enough to learn your lesson?" She nodded eagerly. "Welcome back." She gave him a sort of relieved smile.

"Miss Cassandra!" Alfred's horrified tones saved her from having to reply.

"It's ok, Alfred, she was just…" Alfred's look of disapproval shut even the man behind Batman's mask up.

"Young lady, you are supposed to be downstairs helping the others." She shrugged.

"I needed to…"

"Not another word…you march right down there and clean up that mess." She sighed and gave in. No one could fight Alfred and win. She trudged out of the room. Had she turned, she may have caught a glimpse of rare amusement on Bruce's face.

"Was that really necessary?"

"You didn't see the mess those three made of your dining room." Bruce shrugged.

"Yes, well, sheonly came because I asked her to… I needed to make sure she was ready to go back out as Batgirl."

"You can deal with that later. When the house is clean and you are back on your feet." He completely ignored the scowl cast his way…if Bruce had had his way he would have _been_ back on his feet the minute he awoke from unconsciousness. Alfred finished clearing the breakfast tray and left the room. Bruce continued to glower for a moment, then shrugged it off and returned to his financial reports. At least he would get _some_ work done while he was laid up.

* * *

To be continued… 


	13. Miss Scarlet in the Library with the Jou...

Three hours later the dining room was finally clean, and the trio of troublemakers were trying to decide how to go about straightening up the rest of the rooms on their list. They had four rooms to do, the library, the entry, the parlor, and the study. Tim claimed they actually had _five_, because the kitchen was on this floor and Alfred _did_ say _all_ the rooms…but Dick argued that Alfred couldn't _possibly_ have meant the kitchen, as that was his domain and he wouldn't dream of letting someone else mess around in it, even to clean.

"How's this…I'll clean the study, you can tackle the hall…and Cass can do the library." Tim said it with such innocence that Dick knew something else was going on. Cassandra confirmed it by sticking her tongue out at Tim.

"Very funny. _You_ do the library."

"But it would give you so much practice!" Cass shook her head vehemently. Dick raised an eyebrow, making a mental note to ask Babs what that was all about. She would know…she was, after all, Oracle.

"All right you two, cool it. I'll take the hall, Tim you do the study, Cass can do the parlor, and we'll _all_ work on the library." They would _need_ all of them to work there, too…Alfred liked to dust each and every single book in there…well over five hundred, possibly more than a _thousand…_ by hand…one at a time. They nodded in reluctant agreement.

The next two hours went by slowly, each individual working silently on his or her own assignment. By the time they convened in the library, Cass was about ready to tear her hair out and Tim was looking half-asleep. They were _never_ going to get done at this rate.

"You two take a break, I'll be right back." He disappeared and Tim and Cass collapsed into the armchairs near the fireplace.

"This sucks." Cass nodded her agreement. She felt as if she had been working out for hours instead of just cleaning. Glancing around the room she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Tim followed her gaze and gave a short chuckle. "Hey, how's the reading coming?" She assumed an innocent expression that instantly gave her away. "You haven't been practicing, have you?"

"Have too! Just…not very much." He sighed, and she got up, feeling suddenly restless. She examined the many books on the shelves. She had been here before, just after the incident with the Joker at the bank, and none of the books looked any more promising than they had then.

"Ok, maybe this will liven things up a bit around here!" Dick had returned carrying a rather large CD player. He plugged it in and switched it on, having already loaded and programmed five discs into it. A heavy tempo boomed out of the speakers and Dick turned with a smile and a flourish. Tim rolled his eyes but gave a little clap in mock applause. Dick threw a rag at him and he ducked, laughing.

They had been cleaning for about half an hour when Cass reached the end table. Originally placed beside one of the massive chairs as a surface for whatever a person would need to put on it while reading, it now served as a home for an ornate lamp and a pile of magazines. It was the magazine on top of the pile that caught her eye.

"I know him…" she picked up the magazine, but the words were long, like those in most of the books in library. "Tim!" She had to nearly shout to be heard over the pounding music, but when he looked her way she gestured impatiently.

"What?" She pointed to the magazine, then glanced over at Dick. She didn't know how much Dick knew about her trouble with reading, but she didn't want to clue him in if he wasn't already aware. He had heard her call and now looked at the two of them questioningly. She tucked the magazine behind her back and pantomimed drinking to him. He shrugged and went back to dusting and she grabbed Tim's arm and hauled him out into the main foyer.

"Look."

"So?"

"I…know him. He's a scientist. Lewis Friedman. What does it say?" Understanding lit his eyes.

"Come on, Cass, you can..."

"Not _these_. They're too big!" He looked down at the magazine. She had a point. Most of the words were long…scientifically based. And no wonder, she had picked up a scientific journal of some kind.

"Ok, but only because even _I'm_ probably going to need a dictionary on some of these." He scanned the cover to see which headline matched the picture. "Neurology of Semiotic Functionalism in Subjects Lacking Nominal Language Skills." Cass seemed to digest this for a moment, then looked at him questioningly.

"What's that mean?" He gave a short laugh.

"What do I look like, a brain surgeon?" She regarded him steadily and he sighed. "I _think_ it's an article on the brain and how it works when someone doesn't have a language." He blinked, as if startled. "Hey! It that how…" She grabbed the magazine from him, cutting him off.

"Thank you! Gotta get back to work!" He shook his head.

"Hold on. That's it? Don't you want to know what the article says?" She hesitated, obviously tempted. "Here, give me the journal, I'll read it later and translate it into _normal_ English, and then I can give you the summary, ok?" She sighed and looked down at the cover.

"Ok." Tim took the magazine. His backpack was in the coatroom off the kitchen. He would slip the journal in it and then get back to cleaning the library. Aside from helping out a friend…the article may hold clues to helping her learn to read…he was looking forward to seeing if the article could provide valuable information as to the way Cass's mind worked, maybe helping him understand her better.

"You two took a long time just to get a drink." The CD player had been unplugged…Alfred had probably come in the other door while they were out in the hall and declared the music off limits for a punishment... and the room was silent once more. Dick was balancing precariously on one foot on a ladder provided for people who wished to retrieve a book on one of the higher shelves. His voice betrayed his suspicion, and he flipped lithely from his perch to land before them. "What gives?" Cassandra rolled her eyes and ducked around him.

"We were _very_ thirsty." Dick raised an eyebrow at Tim. He shrugged. If Cass didn't want Dick to know about her magazine article for some reason, he wasn't about to betray her. Cass had managed to make her way back to where she had left off in her cleaning, but Dick blocked Tim's attempts to do the same.

"Very thirsty, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Tim felt his face heat up. It wasn't like that! "Seen any good movies lately?" Tim groaned. There it was…Babs hadn't kept her mouth shut and now Dick was thinking up all kinds of crazy, off –the-wall, preposterous…well, _incorrect_ anyway…assumptions.

"I've seen plenty, you?" Though he knew his face betrayed him, he managed to keep his voice relatively calm and normal. Dick just laughed at him, he seemed to always be able to see through Tim's facades, and hauled himself back up the ladder. Tim sighed and got back to work, figuring if he ignored Dick's taunts, the older man would just go away. Never seemed to work, but that was the theory.

* * *

It was late. Very _very_ late. Or early, he hadn't figured out which. Late by vigilante standards usually meant early morning or even dawn hours. He had spent all day cleaning the Manor, luckily their work had been approved by Alfred, so they hadn't had to do any other floors, and then spent all night as Robin. True, nothing big had surfaced…Joker seemed to be lying low after the previous night's debacle…but his muscles were starting to complain about the abuse he'd put them through. He made it inside without incident and collapsed on his bed…fully intent on sleeping for a few hours, when he remembered the magazine article. He didn't _have_ to read it tonight. There was nothing to say he would even _see_ Cassandra tomorrow, or today, if he was being literal about it, unless he went to her apartment to see her on _purpose_. But after all the pokes Dick, and then later in the evening Nightwing, had made at him, he was feeling a little confused on where he stood with her.

They had been partners occasionally, of course, though he had avoided her during her early days as Batgirl. She had been a little… ok, ok… a _lot_, intimidating to him. Then they had made a kind of agreement to be friends, but they had still never really worked past the acquaintance area until recently. Circumstances had thrown them together more often in the last few weeks than was normal…of course, some of those circumstances had been brought about by his own actions. He had originally intended just to be nice when she got hit by his friend's baseball. Then she had admitted her problem and the _fixer_ in him wouldn't let it go. So he had thought of a way to help her with her reading. No big, right?

So they were becoming better friends. That wasn't too odd. The vigilante/hero community was small and rather tightly knit. It was only natural for him to be friends with her. But he hadn't counted on spending so much time together, of having fun, or of Dick taking the littlest provocation to imply there was something more going on between the youngsters. So now the idea had been planted in his brain and he couldn't shake it.

He shook his head and pulled out the journal. He tossed the backpack across the room and then buried the magazine under a stack of papers on his computer desk. There. Now he wouldn't have to think about it until the morning. He climbed into bed, sure he would fall asleep instantly. He didn't…but neither did he lie awake forever.

The next morning, well, closer to afternoon, Tim was ensconced on the roof of his apartment building with a dictionary, a notebook and pen, and the journal that had caught Cassandra's attention. He had retreated to the rooftop instead of working at his desk where he had Internet access because of the strained aura permeating the apartment. His dad had finally emerged from his room and a kind of tenuous peace had been made between him and Dana. She seemed to still be upset at him for keeping Tim's alternate identity from her, but she had apparently decided not to get involved in the discussion of whether or not Tim _should_ be "allowed" to be Robin.

Personally, Tim had a feeling his dad's isolation had stemmed, once again, from a feeling of failure, brought on, no doubt, by Tim's heated accusations. He should probably try to smooth things over with him, after all, he _had_ told Dana he would, but he still couldn't bring himself to face him. He wanted to avoid another confrontation at all costs…he had enough to deal with, what with Joker and everything right now.

He sighed. Forget about his home life. Yeah, sure…just forget your problems and they'll all go away. Well, right now he was doing _other_ stuff, so he didn't _have_ to think about his dad. The wind snatched at the pages in his hand, trying to wrest them from his grasp. He flipped through the magazine to the article by Dr. Friedman, hoping that whatever it said was worth all the trouble.

"Neurology of Semiotic Functionalism... blah blah blah" he muttered, already feeling like opening up the dictionary. An hour later he was still at it, only two-thirds of the way through the article, when he sensed another presence on the rooftop. He turned, eyes sharp, alert for any lurking danger.

"Tim." He let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, but didn't yet relax completely.

"Dana." He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice and barely repressed a twinge of suspicion. "What are you doing up here?" He winced inwardly, hoping it hadn't come out as hostile as he feared it had.

"I knocked on your door but you weren't in. I saw the window open and thought you might be up here." She hesitated. "Jack mentioned 'roof-hopping' in his tirade." She added by way of explanation. Tim avoided her gaze, knowing he had broken his promise to her to make things right with his dad.

"I…um…just came out here to get some fresh air."

"And escape the oppressive tension downstairs?" his eyes flashed up to meet hers, startled as much by her light tone as by her easy interpretation of his actions. She didn't seem mad and, in spite of himself, he began to relax.

"Yeah. You want to…?" he waved to the rooftop beside him, indicating that she should sit.

"Sure." She sat. "What'cha reading?" She reached for the journal, triggering an instinctual withdrawal on Tim's part. He quickly squelched it; pulling the book away would only make him seem guilty of something and increase her desire to find out what he was hiding.

"Neurology of Semiotic Functionalism in Subjects Lacking Nominal Language Skills, huh? Sounds pretty deep. This have anything to do with…?" she broke off, unsure of the wisdom of speaking aloud on such a subject.

"Sort of," he evaded the question. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Dana, you're a therapist, do you…"

"Whoa there, hold on! I'm a _physical_ therapist. I don't do brain work. I had a _little_ psychology in school, but nothing like this. And I'm no language expert, either." He shrugged.

"I know that. I just thought you may have had anatomy or some kind of classes in college that would give you an edge in trying to sort through all this scientific and medical terminology."

"I don't know, Tim. That was a long time ago. And this stuff is pretty far outside my field."

"Ok." His easy acceptance felt like a dismissal, so she tried to get back into the conversation.

"Do you want to tell me what this is about, or am I prying…getting too far into the 'wicked stepmother' category?" He grinned, but inwardly was surprised. Poor Dana. She was so helpful and outgoing. He was always so busy that he didn't notice, but she had to be feeling pretty left out a lot of the time, what with him hiding Robin and his Dad locking himself in his room…

"Well…I'm really still not entirely sure why she was so interested. A…friend of mine saw the journal and wanted me to…um…_translate_ it into more understandable English…" he wasn't sure why he felt the need to keep Cass's reading disability a secret from Dana. It wasn't like she'd ever meet the girl. But he felt like he'd be breaking her trust even if he told a complete stranger. "She didn't understand the scientific stuff. Not that I understand it entirely, but with my training as…well anyway I had a better chance of understanding it. She said she knew this Dr. Friedman. I know she had…_limited_ language exposure as a kid." Dana considered.

"Well, like I said, I don't know anything about languages or neural science, but I _do_ have to deal with emotional effects of traumas. It's unavoidable in my line of work, though we rely heavily on psychologists. Often a trauma or a bad emotional experience has lasting repercussions…" her voice drifted off and Tim figured she was thinking of his dad. "Anyway, do you have a specific item you think I'd be able to help with?" Tim shrugged, looking down at his notes.

"Well, most of this article has to do with the brain chemistry of people who haven't been exposed to a language…like, um, my friend. I know there's two areas of the brain related directly to language…"

"Right, Broca's and Wernicke's areas, I remember that much from psychology."

"Yeah, well if I'm understanding this article correctly, he main focus is on the differences in the actual chemical and physical makeup of the brain in people who have trouble with language. For example, he mentions that the chemical metabolism in people with dyslexia differs from that of normal people." Tim had made a note to himself to check that out further, as it had obvious links to Cass's inability to read.

"O-K…?" Dana wasn't sure she could help any in this area. But she could listen… maybe that's all he really needed anyway, a person to bounce his theories off on.

"He also mention trauma a lot, most of the studies are on people who _lose_ language functions do to head injuries…trying to map out the language-centers in the brain. It's kinda interesting, actually. There was one patient who lost the ability to read but could still write. There are notes on cases where people make up their own languages in response to losing their primary language. I guess the major breakthrough in this article is an experiment with ERP's, that's an electronic mapping of the brain. They found that 'different types of syntactic deviance produced distinct ERP patterns'…in other words, if you can map out the ERP patterns on known deficiencies, you can have a diagnostic tool as well as allowing researchers to focus on specific areas for specific problems."

"Sounds like you've got it pretty well figured out, what did you want me to do?"

"Well, I guess I was hoping you'd have some kind of insight on how to relate this back to my friend, you know in a sort of therapeutic way."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well, my friend is having some difficulties and I was hoping this article would help us resolve them, but I'm not sure how to use this information."

"Like I said, I'm not a neurologist. It sounds like you'd need access to this equipment and stuff just to find out what is wrong, if that's what you're implying. Without specifics I can't say much more…but if she _does_ need any kind of therapy or tests, a good support system is something we always try to make sure our clients have. It could mean the difference between success and failure." She flashed him a smile. "And with you as a friend I'd say she's already well on her way to acquiring the needed support." She stood, stretching stiff muscles. "Ooof. Well, I better get back inside." Tim watched silently as she headed over to the fire escape by which she had come up to the roof in the first place.

"Hey Dana…" he called out just as she prepared to descend. She looked over inquiringly. "Thanks." She nodded, smiling.

"Any time, kiddo."

* * *

To be continued… 


	14. Street Talk

The cave was quiet…not silent, for there were always the sounds of bats rustling or squeaking in the dark, sometimes one could even hear the distant drip of water as it fell from its perch, releasing the minerals that would cause the stalactites and stalagmites to grow in their miniscule increments. Robin was back from patrol…it had been a quiet night. Joker seemed to _still_ be in hiding. Since the police force was suffering from a huge reduction in manpower, Nightwing had decided to stick around to help out. Oracle was keeping Black Canary on standby, as well as being prepared to call in any _other_ heroes who may be needed. Only those "welcome" in Gotham, of course.

It seemed that Joker's twisted logic had outwitted them this time, for the funhouse _had _been a trap for the police, much to everyone's surprise… they had all assumed that if there were a trap involved it would be set for Batman. Yet while the heroes had been facing Joker _inside_ the funhouse, an automated release mechanism had poured gallons of the coma-inducing gas onto the unfortunate officers positioned on the _outside_.

Now they were in the hospital, an entire wing had been sectioned off and designated for the victims of Joker's attacks, and the members of Bat-clan were trying to cover the losses. Luckily for them, even the criminals seemed to take heed and lie low when Joker was on a rampage… anyone out and about was a target, regardless of their criminal or upstanding background…and there were very few disturbances to distract the vigilantes from the hunt.

"Luckily for us, Joker likes to make a production out of things." Robin muttered to himself. Had Joker wanted to simply kill Batman, he would have had ample opportunity in the time between the factory explosion and the funhouse encounter. Yet he had to have an elaborate deathtrap, a condition that usually provided Batman the opportunity to escape, as it had last night. Robin wheeled his motorcycle to the designated spot then headed towards the entrance to the Manor, figuring he could maybe get Alfred to give him some food before he proceeded back to his family's apartment. But he hadn't gotten more than a few feet when he saw a familiar figure working at the huge computer.

"Does Alfred know you're down here?" he asked, only half joking. Alfred would have kittens if Bruce were working on Bat-related stuff without "permission" after such a serious injury. Of course, that had never stopped Batman. He nodded once, not really paying attention to the young man. Tim noticed that a chemistry setup had been used recently. And there was a suspicious odor in the air…

"Ok, well then does Alfred know that you went out as Batman tonight?" This time he got a more satisfying reaction. Bruce paused, then continued his work without answering…as sure a sign of guilt as Tim, or Robin, had ever seen. He grinned and plopped down in a chair next to where Bruce was working.

"So…?" He continued to be ignored. He shook his head in mock despair… apparently Bruce needed reminding that it wasn't nice to keep secrets from one's partner. He sighed loudly. "I would sure _hate_ for Alfred to find out that someone was up to mischief behind his back…" a twinge in his own back reminded him of the trouble everyone had gotten into the day before.

"I don't give in to extortion." Tim nearly crowed; if Bruce said he wouldn't give in, that _must _mean Tim had hit a sore spot.

"Come on," he needled, "just tell me what's going on, and I _promise_ not to tell Alfred!" So he sounded like a three-year-old, threatening to tattle…he had learned from the best. Batman had taught him early on to use any means necessary (within reason) and this _definitely _qualified. Bruce threw him an irritated glare but didn't seem too angry. He turned back to his work.

"Joker made a mistake." Tim perked up, even though the voice was Batman's and none too friendly.

"Really?! What?"

"The apparatus he used to hit the police with…it didn't dispense all the formula." Tim looked back at the chemistry table with renewed interest.

"You've found an antidote?"

"Not yet." Ah. That explained the grumpy demeanor.

"Anything I can do to…"

"No." Tim sighed. He hated it when Bruce got in these moods, where he insisted on being the only one to work on a case for this reason or that. Usually it happened after one of his "agents" got injured, but it had been known to pop up in unexplained instances too. But it wasn't like Tim wanted to go out and pound the Joker's face in…ok, he _did_ want to do that too…he just wanted to help figure out a cure for Joker's poison.

"Well…I guess I'll just…" He looked at Bruce's face and realized he wasn't listening. Tim squelched the urge to say something really outrageous just to get a reaction out of him. The antidote was the important thing right now, and if Bruce needed to be left alone to figure it out, Tim supposed he could allow him his grouchiness. He stood, stretching, and started towards the Manor entrance. He _was_ still hungry, after all.

* * *

"I don't _want_ to." Barbara gave in to the impulse to roll her eyes. She had been trying to get Cass to go to the library with her for nearly an hour. It was one of the few public places Babs was still willing to go out to, and she hadn't been in awhile. Since Cassandra was learning to read… and even though Babs _had _promised to back off…Babs was hoping the younger girl would be willing to accompany her. Apparently not.

"You don't _have_ to read anything! Just come with me!?" Cass shook her head. Having successfully defeated the evil dust that Alfred had forced her to fight a few days ago, and still sneezing at random intervals because of it, she really wasn't in the mood to struggle with those silly symbols that everyone called words. Babs shook her head.

"I'll buy you lunch." Ooh, now _there_ was an incentive. But Cass didn't want to give in that easily. She looked out the window, feigning indifference. Babs narrowed her eyes, sensing the weakening of her prey. "And desert…something really sugary and fattening." Cass grinned at the window where Babs couldn't see her. Maybe if she waited a little longer she could get… "Ok! _And_ we can stop by the movie store on the way back."

"I guess." Cass drew it out, sounding like she was being dragged to a funeral rather than being treated to dinner and a movie.

"Don't push it." Babs grinned as Cass made a face at her. As they headed out the door Cass snagged an apple.

"What?" she queried as Babs looked back at her in disbelief. "I'm hungry _now_." It would still be a while before lunchtime, so she didn't see what was wrong with eating something right away. Babs shook her head.

"You _just_ ate breakfast! A _big_ breakfast! I should know…I made it!" Cass grinned. Babs' idea of a big breakfast was two pancakes, an egg, and some bacon…though Babs hadn't eaten the bacon, claiming it would just go to her thighs...and some fruit. Cass, on the other hand, was active enough that she sometimes felt like she was eating constantly.

"So?" Babs sighed and they made their way down to the street. The library was close enough, and it was a nice day, so they had decided to walk, or roll, in Babs' case…no point in getting out Babs' big SUV and fighting traffic. They didn't talk much as they traveled…Cass was munching on her apple and Babs was simply enjoying the sunshine.

"Hey! Wait up!" The two women turned in unison as Dick jogged after them, Tim in tow.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Babs folded her arms across her chest.

"Hey! Is that any way to greet your favorite…uh," Dick floundered as he realized that the crowded sidewalk was _not_ the best place to be announcing that one was a vigilante/hero.

"Moron? Oaf? Oh, wait! I know!! How about rude overbearing psychopath?!" Babs raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile. Cass tried to hold back giggles, though she wasn't quite succeeding.

"Wow, Dick, what _did_ you do to get him so steamed?" Dick affected an innocent grin and shrugged.

"I have _no_ idea! I mean, really! Can I be blamed for the fact that the kid didn't go to bed until four in the morning? And, having no way to know of this strange behavior, it really can't be _my _fault that he was so tired when I woke him up at five."

"Dick! That's mean!" Babs burst out laughing, causing Cassandra to lose the little control she had had as well. Dick simply smirked. Cass was the first to get herself under control as she realized Tim wasn't laughing. She cocked her head and glanced over at Dick as if trying to figure something out. Finally, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

"Why?" Dick blinked. Babs chuckled some more and answered.

"Because when someone doesn't get very much sleep they can't function as well and may…"

"No!" She shook her head exasperatedly, but smiled to show them she got their joke. "Why did you get him up so early?" Tim, who had slumped against a nearby lamppost now straightened with a wry smile.

"Because, _apparently,_ the only way he can get a…what was it again?"

"A digital analog converter." He glanced at Babs and winked. "A self-powered 16-Bit stereo digital-to-analog converter with USB interface, a full-speed transceiver, and adaptive mode for isochronous transfer."

"Right. A digital analog converter…was to be at the electronics store the _second_ it opened… why he needed me for this mission I _still_ haven't figured out."

"Richard John Grayson!" Babs smacked him in the arm.

"Ow! What…"

"You got this kid out of bed at that ungodly hour for _stereo equipment!_" Cass started laughing again as Dick tried half-heartedly to defend himself.

"But, Babs! I needed…hey! Stop that! I needed to use his credit card."

"Um, you didn't _use_…" Tim stopped as Dick handed him the card that, until that moment, he could have _sworn_ was in his wallet.

"Ok, someone explain to me why you, Dick Grayson, son of _Bruce Wayne_, Bazillionaire…you… who _has_, if I recall, a good sized fortune of your own… felt the need to steal Tim's credit card to purchase fancy stereo toys."

"Because if I had used _my_ card, you would have found out about it." He beamed proudly at the confusion evident on the faces surrounding him. Babs cleared her throat and glanced between Tim and Cass, as if asking them if they had heard it too.

"Ye-eah… and you _do_ realize I _have_ now found out about it, which kind of makes your rather complicated little plot a bit superfluous."

"Well… and there was the added bonus of torturing Timmy." Tim rolled his eyes. He loved Dick like a brother, but unfortunately Dick seemed to share the sentiment. Which meant, since he seemed to believe brothers should torment each other in every manner imaginable, that when he was in a "brotherly" mood, Tim ended up in situations such as being woken at five a.m. or getting tricked into a food fight in Alfred's dining room.

He shook his head. Though he pretended to be grouchy, and he really _was_ irritated at being woken so early, he was enjoying the encounter. Still, he dimly recalled Dick buying something _else _at the electronic store…something he really _hadn't_ wanted Babs to learn about. He concentrated on the memory as Dick and Babs' squabble eased into mischievous teasing. What had he…oh yeah. Babs' birthday was coming up and Dick had found a supplier who had some kind of extremely rare and hi-tech gadget that he thought she'd want. Tim had still been in a sleepy haze, but Dick had explained it all to him and promised to pay him back. Tim would have gone with flowers, personally…maybe some nice jewelry…but Dick seemed to think it would be better to not "push" Babs. Though how flowers were pushy, Tim was sure _he_ didn't know.

After a few more minutes of playful banter the small group decided to skip the library and simply have lunch together. Though Babs had originally planned on a quick lunch at a deli, Dick insisted on treating everyone to a nicer sit-down meal. An Italian "ristorante" was not to far away, and they made their way there slowly, in no hurry… they were just enjoying each other's company.

After a few minutes the group had sort of separated into two pairs, Dick and Babs discussing something animatedly and Tim and Cassandra following quietly. Cass watched Tim out of the corner of her eye, wondering if it was a bad time to ask about the magazine article he had said he would read for her. Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Tim glanced over and smiled.

"I bet you want to know about that journal, right?" She nodded, waiting silently. He sighed, groggily trying to recall the article. "Let's see… well, if you want the whole article, you'll have to wait until I have my notes on me, but it basically said that studies have found physical differences in the brains of people who have various language difficulties. Like dyslexics have slightly different chemicals in their brains…" he eyed her speculatively. "I wonder if that's related to your trouble."

"Huh?"

"Dyslexic people have trouble reading. It's often described as the letters looking backwards or something, though that's not entirely accurate. They _can_ learn to read, but it's a lot more difficult for them."

"Other people can't read?" He was surprised that she seemed to be having difficulty with this concept.

"Yeah… Cass, didn't anyone ever tell you that? Ba- um, Bruce, Babs? I would have thought they would have explored that possibility long ago! It's not _that_ uncommon a condition." She shrugged. She had always assumed that she was the only person…well, maybe not the _only_ person, but close…in the world who couldn't read. How _come_ Babs and Batman hadn't thought of this?

"So?"

"Well, I don't know what else… just I guess that if you wanted, you could probably talk to Bruce and see if he knows where you could have these tests done…it _could_ be that something is actually physically different in your brain and that's why, no matter how hard you've been trying, you haven't been able to read yet." She nodded, thinking it over. She hadn't wanted to bring Batman into this…he knew, of course, but seemed content to simply let her beat up the "bad-guys" and leave the detecting and reading stuff to everyone else. Though she could read things after spending hours practicing, it seemed that all that effort slipped right out her head and she had to start over again the next time she wanted to try.

They continued the rest of the way in silence. Tim hoped he hadn't upset her…he couldn't understand why no one had told Cass that there were other people who couldn't read. For her part, Cass simply decided not to worry about it until after things settled down…as in, if and when the Joker ever got caught. There were enough things to worry about as it was without adding to her list of problems.

* * *

To be continued… 


	15. Lunch

Their drinks had been delivered, their orders taken, and the menus removed before Tim really woke up enough to remember his news.

"Hey! You guys know that…" he glanced around wishing he had chosen a better spot to discuss this, "…that B got a sample of the gas?"

"No way!"

"You're kidding!" Tim grinned, thrilled to be the one, for once, who got to be "in the know" before Dick and especially before the "all-seeing" Oracle. But though their reactions pleased him, Cass was the one who really got to the heart of the matter.

"How…how come he didn't tell _us_?" Tim took a drink to give himself time to find a good response. He nearly choked, though, as Cass gave him a look that very plainly said, "I can read body language, dummy. I _know_ what you're doing."

"Hey, that's a good question. I haven't heard anything…how do you know, Tim?" Babs eyed him speculatively. Tim held up his hands in surrender.

"Chill, ok? I was just in the…**_basement_ **last night and ran into him working on the…er, _problem._" He grinned a little. "I threatened to tell Alfred that he went out against the doctor's orders, so he said that he found that some was left at the funhouse." Babs nodded, but Dick seemed rather put out.

"_I_ could have…_any_ of us could have looked into that. He didn't need to…"

"Bored." All three pairs of eyes swiveled to Cass. She blushed a little, feeling ridiculous for interrupting. Especially since their postures all told her they thought she was saying _she_ was bored. She sighed. "He was bored. Didn't want to stay all cooped up…and worried, too." She shrugged, then pointed a finger accusingly at Dick. "You are the same way!"

"And you're not?" She shrugged. That wasn't the issue…_she_ hadn't been mad that Batman had gone out. It would have been detective stuff anyway, not her favorite pastime. Tim and Babs watched the exchange, amused.

"So what? I'm just saying…you got mad, so I was pointing it out. _I'm_ not mad." Dick was saved from having to reply by the timely intervention of their meals. By the time things settled down again, Tim had decided that he needed to get the conversation back on track.

"Anyway, knowing him, he won't eat, sleep, or stop until he finds the solution, so we won't have to wait too long."

"All of which is very nice and good, except that you-know-who's still out there. He may decide it's not _fun_ to use this method anymore if we can simply counteract it."

"I think we're all overlooking the fact that, while…I am _not_ going to keep saying 'you-know-who'! I am not in the middle of a Harry Potter book! We'll call him Bob…so while Bob is…"

"Bob?!"

"What? You have a better idea?"

"Yeah, how about waiting until we're not in public to discuss this?"

"Well, that _could_ work…but then what would we talk about?" Babs shook her head, having no immediate answer. Dick grinned, pleased to have won the argument. "So, as I was saying… _Bob_ is unpredictable and dangerous, but his unpredictability is actually predictable, so we know that…"

"Now _there's_ some circular logic for you."

"Keep it up and maybe I _won't_ pay you back for the DAC." Tim rolled his eyes. "There are components of his actions that are nearly always consistent. We know his schemes usually involve the death of B, often after some kind of physical gauntlet or a supposedly humiliating experience. Death on a grand scale is another theme. And the police force is a popular target as well. He's already hit two of those, though he's left out the death. I think we can all agree that whatever he's building up to is going to be bad."

"_Thank_ you, Sherlock." Babs applauded in mock appreciation for Dick's detective skills. He assumed a wounded expression.

"Well, what _else_ do we have to go on?" The other three remained silent, and he nodded in satisfaction.

"That's not really anything to 'go on' itself, you know." Dick slumped back in his chair at Tim's pronouncement.

"I know. But, and I _really_ hate to say it, I think that as of right now, we're kind of at an impasse. Unfortunately it's become a waiting game, for the time being. Until he makes his next move, I don't know what we're going to do."

* * *

Batman cracked the chemical code later that afternoon and the antidote was administered to the first victims before the sun set for the night. Robin was camped out on the roof of the hospital, the one that had taken all the victims and sequestered them in their own wing, waiting to see if Joker would react. Each of Batman's crew had a similar assignment…watching and searching the most likely areas of the city, hoping to head Joker off before he could strike again in a more deadly manner.

"Any action?" Oracle's voice came over the comm and Robin sighed.

"Not unless people waking up and going home is considered 'action'."

"They're releasing the patients already?" He shrugged, though he knew she couldn't see him.

"I guess. The conversations I've picked up indicated that the doctors couldn't find anything unusual in their blood chemistry and they seem to think that since the cure came from Batman it is unquestionably effective."

"They're not keeping _anyone_ for observation?" the disbelief in her voice mirrored the annoyance Robin had been feeling for the past half-hour, and he gave a short laugh.

"According to them, the only thing wrong with these people is that they all took a _really_ long nap. Now why would they need to observe someone for that?" He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard the grinding of teeth as Oracle pondered the stupidity inherent in the modern medical system. He allowed himself a small smile, then moved back into the shadows where he could stretch the kinks out of his back without the risk of being seen.

"Well, keep your eyes open. It may take a while for the news to get back to Joker." Robin shook his head. Why was it people kept thinking he was incompetent or something? Back when he had quit being Robin because of his dad, everyone had kept acting like he had forgotten everything he'd ever learned as Batman's protégé. Now Babs felt the need to tell him how to do his job. He sighed.

Movement below caught his attention, causing him to stiffen, preparing to launch into flight should the need arise. But it was just one of the police officers who had been hit with Joker's formula leaving with his family. Robin sat back, feeling slightly guilty that he was disappointed at the lack of action. A soft _swoosh_ sounded behind him and he grinned. Ah…company.

"What's up?" He asked the question lightly, but kept his attention on the street below.

"The price of milk." He turned, shaking his head.

"Ri-ight. So, anything interesting going on?" Nightwing shook his head and glanced over the side of the roof to observe another patient exiting the hospital.

"Well, you know there _was_ this weird guy with green hair going into the mall, but he just looked so happy that I decided to ignore him and come find out what was happening in your neck of the woods."

"That's not funny!" Robin winced at Oracle's somewhat loud pronouncement.

"Sorry."

"It's _not_! This isn't something to joke about! You…" her voice cut out suddenly as Nightwing reached over and switched the channel on Robin's comm, having already done the same to his own.

"You think that was wise? She's going to be pissed." Nightwing shrugged, ginning, so Robin added, for good measure, "And what if a real emergency comes up?"

"She'll scan for our frequencies if she needs us, and a big emergency, well, she broadcasts over all the 'bat' frequencies in such situations, and you know it!" He narrowed his eyes. "How much is she paying you?"

"Paying me!? Why, I'm _shocked_ that you would dare to suggest such a thing! I am above…" in one fluid movement Nightwing had him in a loose choke-hold, pushing him over to the side of the building as if he would drop him off the roof.

"You're gonna be above _something._" The threat lost most of its effectiveness since he was still smiling and Robin was laughing.

"She's not paying me anything! Ha…haha…I swear! Lemme go!" Robin twisted out of his grasp and they spent a few minutes in a rough game of tag, interspersed with short bouts of trying to knock each other down, push one another off the roof, or catch the other one off guard long enough to pin him down. Finally they stopped to catch their breaths and Nightwing made a face at Robin.

"So. Not paying you anything?"

"Nah. Blackmail."

"Ah. Yes. She is quite good at that." They chuckled for a few more moments, glad to have been able to work off some of the tense steam that had been building as they waited for Joker to act.

"If you two are done playing, I've got a report of a disturbance over on Morrison … some kind of fight, possibly gang-related." The two young men looked at each other and burst out laughing again. Unaware of their earlier conversation about her ability to locate them, Oracle, it seemed, didn't quite find the humor in her statement, for she added, "and after that you can check yourselves in to Arkham…it's not _that _funny!" But apparently they disagreed.

* * *

It was cold. It was cold and boring. It was cold, boring, and it _stank_. Batgirl, of course, didn't notice any of these facts...she was a silent stalker in the night, above such petty concerns. Cassandra, on the other hand, decided she would feel a lot better if someone would attempt to do _something_ illegal so she could work out the frustrations of being told to scope out the waterfront. Batman had delivered the antidote to Joker's chemical earlier. Now they were all waiting to see what Joker would do next as he realized his plan had gone awry.

The stuff Tim had told her earlier in the day kept trying to grab her attention. She had thought it would be easy to set it aside for the time being, but she was quickly learning that the brain had a way of hanging onto things that one may prefer were not hung onto. Like songs. Ever since she had realized how music could be another form of communication she had been listening to it whenever she could. Yet she had discovered that some music had a strange habit of staying in her head even after she was done listening to it. It was really quite annoying.

Now, though, it wasn't music that was stuck in her head, but something Tim had mentioned that seemed important, but she couldn't quite figure out why. It had something to do with chemicals…a movement down on a side street pulled her attention away from the problem. She had been perched on a large crane that was being used for one of the many construction jobs currently underway, but now she slid down the structure, slipping into a connecting alley.

As she reached the street where she had seen the motion, she slowed and peered around the corner. Oh. It had just been a policeman on patrol. She relaxed a little, intending to return to a better lookout spot when the man's body language caught up with her brain. Something was wrong…

"Oracle." She didn't dare speak too loudly and risk alerting the officer. A hiss of static answered her, then Babs' voice broke through.

"You have something?"

"A policeman…he…he's acting very strange."

"I need a little more info than that, Batgirl." She sighed.

"He moves all wrong. He's not…I don't know!" she studied his movements for a moment, then gasped as the answer hit her. "He's not _thinking_. His movements…he doesn't plan them. Like…a remote control." Though Cass couldn't know it, Babs' furiously typed commands sent out queries to check on the whereabouts of Mad Hatter…one mega-criminal on the loose in Gotham was _more _than enough.

"Mad Hatter's still in Arkham…are you _sure _about this?"

"Yes. He just broke into a warehouse. He isn't…conscious." Even as she said it the word connected in her mind and a shiver ran up her spine. "Oracle?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are the people who got knocked out by Joker?"

"They're being released from the hospital as soon as they recover…why?"

"Lots of police got hit with the gas. Now this police officer is… walking around and…" she had been following stealthily and she glanced around another corner to check on his actions. "And stealing…guns? I think this warehouse is holding a…um… there are a lot of weapons here, Oracle."

"An illegal weapons cache? I haven't heard anything, but I'll let Batman know."

"Yes, and the police officer is stealing them in his sleep."

"Uh…what?"

"He is moving. His eyes are open. But he is _not_ aware of his actions. He is _asleep_, unconscious…something."

"And you think it's connected to Joker?"

"Well, he made all the police go into comas, right?"

"But that doesn't mean…hold on a second." Batgirl waited in the shadows, not confronting the thief, but tailing him as he made his way back out of the warehouse. After a few minutes he climbed into a car…not a police car, just a regular one…and Batgirl prepared to jump on top of it when Oracle's voice stopped her.

"Batgirl, you're going to have to ignore it for now. Nightwing and Robin need help over on Morrison. There's a fight going on…a bad one." Batgirl watched the car drive away, a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she turned and headed towards the fight. The huge gang war was still fresh in everyone's minds, and no one wanted to see a repeat.

* * *

To be continued… 


	16. Falling Out

_Thwack!_

"Do these guys seem a little out of it to you?"

_Crunch!_

"Yeah, probably hopped up on some new drug…another item to worry about."

_Thump!_

"Well…hold on..."

_Crash! Smack!_

"There. Like I was saying… at least they aren't packing…" the sound of gunfire effectively cut off Robin's sentence.

"You were saying?"

"Nope. Not a thing." The sound had come from further away, though, as if it were newcomers approaching the fight.

"Hey, Oracle, where are we on that backup?"

"Having trouble, twenty-something wonder?"

"Oh no. It's a ball, here, really. I just thought we might like to share the fun."

"Batgirl's on her way, ETA three minutes." Though there were already a good ten or twelve fighters down for the count, enough remained active to fill the next three minutes with a tough workout for Robin and Nightwing. Out of the corner of his eye, Robin noticed a couple cars approaching, guns hanging out the window.

"We've got company!"

"No kidding." The cars screeched to a stop, spewing out armed…police officers?

"Ummm…did I miss something?"

"Only if I missed it too. We'd better…" a sprinkling of gunfire over their heads caused them to duck. The people who had originally been fighting pulled back, collecting guns and ammunition from the newcomers. A dark figure swooped down beside them.

"What kept you?" She didn't answer, instead focusing on one car in particular.

"Oracle. He's here."

"Who's here, what…?" Batgirl clamped her hand over Robin's mouth.

"Your policeman?"

"Yes. He brought the guns here. The fighters…they're also asleep." Babs swore, softly, but it still came over the comm.

"You guys, pull back. There's something going on here…"

"No kidding." The mob was armed now, and descending once again towards the vigilantes. Oddly enough, as violent as they were getting, they completely ignored the innocent bystanders... which was a welcome change, but it also focused a lot more attention on the heros. "I feel like Frankenstein's Monster! All that's missing are some pitchforks."

"Get out of there, now!"

"But the civilia…"

"They won't attack them." Batgirl dragged Robin back towards the alley, where they could escape to the rooftops. Nightwing followed reluctantly. "They are…programmed, or something...just after us right now."

"Listen to her. Batman's headed back to the cave to do some further research on the Joker's toxin and the antidote. You guys meet him there."

"You think this is related to…"

"I really don't know. But Cass had a point earlier when she said that police officers got hit with the gas and now some of them are stealing weapons to hand out to a mob?"

"We don't even know that these are the same…"

"Talk later, move now." Batgirl shoved Nightwing over a few centimeters as a bullet whizzed by his head. He glanced back and saw the throng had followed them into the alley. Robin already had his line out and Batgirl was quickly following suit. Nightwing, recalling the trouble that being shot had caused him last time, decided that he could finish the conversation from a safer location.

* * *

"I don't like your attitude."

"Well I don't like _your_ attitude, so we're even." Tim and Cass exchanged exasperated glances as Dick and Bruce…well, Batman, since he hadn't bothered to remove the costume, or even the cowl…squared off. And things had been going so well between the two of them lately, too. But when they had all reached the cave after their run-in with the crazed crowd, Batman had surprised them all by declaring, point blank, that he neither needed nor wanted their help on this case any more. Dick, obviously, had taken exception to this, and had begun to argue.

"Gotham is…"

"Don't give me that 'my city' crap, Bruce! I protected this city just as…well _almost_ as long as you…I have just as much claim to…"

"Fine. You can patrol and fight whomever you want… just stay off this case."

"I don't believe this! What do…" Tim tuned them out as he turned to Cass.

"You'd think this was a new development, wouldn't you?" She didn't answer, staring, instead, intently at the quarreling crime-fighters. Tim tapped his fingers against a stalagmite impatiently. There were so many other things they could be doing right now. More important things. "Maybe we should…"

"No." Ok…so she wasn't going to be any help. He glanced over at them once more and, seeing that Batman was sufficiently occupied, he slipped around the room to a secondary computer terminal stood. He slid into the chair and tried to bring up the analysis and any other information Batman had collected and compiled about the chemical they were dealing with.

"Come on. Come on…" he knew he didn't have a lot of time before Bruce noticed his activity and probably shut him down…possibly for good. He nearly growled when he found the files and they were locked up tighter than Fort Knox. He felt a presence behind him and he glanced back. Cass stood there, still watching Bruce and Dick, but also peeking at Tim's attempts to hack into the protected files.

"Better stop." Tim looked over at the feud, not noticing any difference, but Cass could read body language a _lot_ better than he could. If she thought he was going to get caught, he'd believe her. He shut the station down, knowing that Bruce would probably _still_ find out about the attempt…he probably triggered some kind of electronic alarm. Tim was good with computers, but only Oracle had a chance of competing with Batman.

"I can't believe he's doing this…again." She blinked at his bitter tone, then shook her head.

"Something…he knows something. He doesn't want us out there…there is more to this, this…this case. More than just police and gangs. More, maybe than Joker. He…you know he trusts us, right?" Tim shrugged, not sure of the reasoning behind her question and the apparent change in subject.

"Umm. I suppose. He's not really showin…"

"No. I know you don't."

"Hey! I didn't..."

"Shh!" She looked down for a moment, lost in thought, then motioned for him to follow her. "You _think_ you do. Dick isn't so sure. Babs doesn't think so at all, most of the time. But you don't…understand him. He trusts us. But he…he is responsible. For what happens." Tim thought he could see where she was going with this.

"I know he feels re…"

"No. He _is_ responsible." Tim blinked, confused.

"He is not. He can't control…"

"But he believes he should be able to. So to him, it is reality, even when we don't see it. The…those people. They are being controlled by someone else. But did you see, the police officers still had talents… training. The…whatever it is doesn't take that away. What if one of us got under that control?" Tim nodded reluctantly. "Or, because it may be related to Joker, if one of us is hurt or…" she bit her lip, not caring to finish that thought. "He would blame himself because he didn't catch him on time." Tim knew that was true. He _always_ blamed himself when something went wrong.

"I understand that he may want to protect us, but he also has to let us do our jobs."

"But he is trying to get things back under control. He can't control us. Even if we did everything…_everything_ he told us, we are still individuals. Too many factors."

"So you're saying he won't accept help because he trusts us but is worried and trying to protect us…yet you're also saying that we're loose cannons…we're going to trip him up? You can't have it both ways, Cassandra!" Cass sighed, rolling her eyes and sitting down on one of the cave's formations, rubbing her forehead absently.

"I…can't explain. You are right…he doesn't trust anyone, not all the way. Though he trusts more than you think. But now it is about _control_…not trust. He has to be in control of the situation. In his mind only he is capable of it…not because he doesn't trust, but because he sees each of us, our strengths...and _weaknesses_ and… if something goes wrong, he wants to be the only one blamed. So we can continue even if…" she broke off, her voice feeling as if it would strangle her. Tim eyed her thoughtfully.

"I guess I can see what you're saying. But we can help, here. I _know_ we can." She nodded. She had felt the same way. Though she understood what Batman was thinking, she didn't necessarily _agree_ with him all the time.

* * *

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind." Batgirl ignored him as she crouched on the roof of the hospital. There were three patients, victims of Joker's attacks, who hadn't been released yet. Robin had _said_ he wanted to help, but staking out the hospital and following a released patient to see if he was under some kind of mind control wasn't his idea of a foolproof plan.

"How else will we find out if they're the same people?"

"Lots of ways. We _did _manage to take out a few of the people in the mob…if the others didn't untie them, which they probably did, we could check the police records and see if they match up. If the officers aren't showing up for work, we could see if there's a correlation…there are other ways."

"This is faster." He started to object, so she continued, "and this way Batman doesn't find out as fast." She _did_ have a point, there. He knew Batman had programs in place to alert him when certain files were accessed, or when certain key words were entered together…stuff like that. Even if he got Babs to agree to help them, Batman would probably know within seconds, and Robin would probably no longer exist a minute or so after that. Which brought up a good question…_why_ was he risking getting fired as Robin to follow up a very tenuous lead again?

He glanced over at Batgirl. Oh…yeah, that's right. Though the others hadn't noticed, in fact it seemed likely that Cass herself hadn't made the connection, she had been acting…slightly different since the mob's attack. It wasn't an obvious difference…she wasn't talking strangely or even behaving oddly…except for one thing. Right now she was focusing intently on the street below, but every so often…yep. She lowered her head, shaking it a little. Though he couldn't see her face because of the mask, he guessed that she probably was blinking or simply closing her eyes.

Headaches…migraines, to be precise. He had suffered through enough of them, usually caused by the incredible stresses he put himself through, to be able to recognize them in another. It shouldn't have worried him…they were a common enough occurrence. Except…he hadn't ever seen Cassandra lose focus like that. He hadn't known her long enough to know if she had regular headaches. But he _had_ known Batgirl long enough to know that usually even a bullet wound wouldn't stop her when she decided to go after something…or someone.

Tim was a detective. That was his job as Robin. He had uncovered the secret identities of Batman and Robin when he was just a kid. And he was starting to put some pieces together. Random, seemingly unconnected events were falling into place. And, since Batman was too focused on finding Joker, as were the others, he had decided it was up to him to keep an eye on Batgirl.

"What?" Whoops, she had caught him looking at her. He obviously wasn't good enough at keeping his body language from telling her his thoughts, or maybe the street lights were simply bothering her head, because, after one more quick glance to make sure all was quiet down below, she stood and walked towards the center of the roof, further from any possible prying eyes or ears. Robin remained where he was, hoping for a diversion. There was none. He risked a glance back at Batgirl and received a beckoning wave. Great. Now he was in trouble. There was _no _way he could lie to Cass, even if he really wanted to. He reluctantly followed her into the shadows.

"Yeah?" Right, like she was going to buy that…don't play innocent, just…tell her what you suspect.

"What is…ugh…" she rubbed her head, fighting a wave of pain. "You…" He sighed.

"Here, sit down." He pushed her gently over to a small covered box that held the controls to the hospitals massive air conditioning and purifying systems. She complied without argument…a fact that in and of itself was indicative of the pain she was feeling. He dug around in his utility belt. "Here."

"What…?"

"It's a… um…painkiller." It was actually a prescription drug that specifically targeted migraines, but he didn't think she needed to know that. He thought she scowled, though he couldn't be sure through the mask.

"I don't…"

"Just take them!" Apparently his voice was too loud for her, even though it wouldn't have carried further than a few feet, because she flinched. He crouched down beside her, lowering his voice. "I know you don't think you need to…you and Batman…you keep going even with bullets in you. But trust me on this, it will help!" She shook her head slightly.

"No…no drugs." Robin rolled his eyes beneath his mask.

"Trust me…I know what you feel like right now, and any side effects from this medicine will be minor compared to the consequences of _not_ taking it. You're already losing focus, which is so totally unlike you." She clutched her head in her hands, fighting against the weakness.

"We don't…have…time…"

"You're right. We _don't_ have a lot of time, so take these and I'll explain my theory." She gave him a look of pure loathing. "Hey, chill, ok? It's not a complicated theory…and it has to do with your headache _and_ the case." She sighed, becoming completely still, as if she was bracing herself…which, he reflected, she probably was. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she held out one gloved hand, taking extreme care not to move her head.

Both of the young vigilantes had water containers in their utility belts…one never knew when one may become trapped somewhere and even their normal nightly activities kept them mobile enough to require rehydration…and Cass ended up drinking all the water contained in both vessels as she attempted to gain control. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Tim knew the pills usually took at least half an hour to work, but they couldn't really just sit there that long. Deciding they had taken more time than they could really afford, he began to speak…softly, so as not to aggravate her condition.

* * *

To be continued… 


	17. Reflections

High atop an aging cathedral Batman watched his city. He was alone. Again. And that was how it should be…although…if he truly believed that, why could he not keep Alfred's admonition that Batman needed his younger counterparts from running through his mind? He and Dick had parted badly earlier that evening; once again unable to meet eye to eye on an issue. Barbara would probably take Dick's side…if given the chance. Which is why his link to Oracle remained off-line.

Robin and Batgirl had disappeared. Batman knew they, too, were probably trying to wrap up the case…though he had stated that he didn't "require" their assistance any more, just before Dick blew up at him…they hadn't stuck around long enough for him to expressly forbid them from helping.

That was the difference, he mused silently, between Dick and Tim. Dick would argue and fight any decision he disagreed with, trying to convince another of his view. If that didn't work, he ended up eventually doing what he thought was right, yet leaving a rift behind him. Tim would simply go his own direction, finding the loopholes through which he could operate. Oh, he would face the consequences later, fully prepared for any punishment offered. But he didn't let Batman, or anyone else, stand in the way of what he believed. None of them did, really, but Tim had been a much more independent Robin than Dick or Jason. He was autonomous and disliked having that taken from him. It was something Batman admired in Tim, even as he rued the fact that it meant Robin was less reliant on Batman…and as he feared that there was the chance that some day their beliefs may not coincide.

Or that Tim's actions may lead him into a situation he would need backup for and his independence would leave him without the support required...something Batman himself had experienced. There it was again…Alfred's voice in his head. Batman shook it off, focusing, instead, on the problem at hand.

Joker's formula had been no more difficult to dissect than any of his others, taking awhile to bring together the right chemicals, but still something Batman could counteract… or so it had _seemed_. But now the city was experiencing the effects of the hastily concocted antidote.

The original formula had held a mixture of anesthetics, narcotics, and other seemingly random chemicals that had rendered the victims unconscious. When Batman had created the antidote, he had brought the patients out of the coma-like trance, unknowingly activating a second reaction within the victim's body. The antidote, combined with natural hormones and one or two of those apparently random chemicals mixed in the original gas, had caused the individual to become receptive to commands issued from an outside source.

Batman had overheard Batgirl and Oracle's remarks when the first encounters had occurred. He, too, had thought immediately of a connection to Mad Hatter. Though while Oracle had simply verified his whereabouts, Batman had paid him a little visit. There was no connection. At least, not one that would implicate Hatter as an accomplice. But Joker _had_ been in a cell near the Hatter's for a while, and one of the orderlies admitted that Hatter had enjoyed conversing on the subject of mind control at some length… though why no one had realized that the sharing of criminal techniques between the inmates would be a _bad_ thing and put a stop to it was unclear.

So, Joker had a veritable army under his control. And there was little doubt that he would use it to some nefarious end. It was a situation that would require very careful handling…if he were to avoid fallout similar to the disastrous end to the "war games" that Stephanie had unleashed upon the city. As much as he could use the help of his younger partners, even just for crowd control purposes, he was loathe to submit them to the possibility that the police and the public could turn completely against them…again.

Then there was the risk that, unbeknownst to him, Cassandra had pointed out earlier. The people who were being controlled still maintained their previous levels of functionality. At least none of the Bat-clan had superpowers to worry about, should they fall under the control of a villain, but they had enough training to do substantial damage. Of course, if that were the only risk, Batman himself shouldn't be taking on the Joker, as he had more training and experience than any of them.

Of course, the desire to protect them that also played a small part. A _very_ small part. He knew, as they all did, the risks each of them took every night. While Joker was a more deadly and unpredictable criminal, and though he had managed to destroy the lives of more than one of the members of Batman's family, the likelihood that he would manage to kill another of them was not too much higher than the risk of being shot by a gang member or a housebreaker.

But a fourth possibility existed, and it was this, more than anything else, that caused him to resume his vigil alone. And that was the fact that Joker was _his_ responsibility. It had been suggested more than once over the years that such villains as Joker, Poison Ivy, Two Face, and the others only sprang into existence because _he_ had begun to work as Batman. It was a theory of balance, one that, though he mostly discounted it, he could never completely ignore. Would the major psychotic criminals of Gotham have existed had Batman never come onto the scene? There was no way to know… not now. But, having lost control of the situation too many times in recent months, Batman felt that _he_ had to bring Joker down… and he had to do it alone.

* * *

"…so…what do you think?" Robin eyed Batgirl worriedly, hoping she would acquiesce to his plan. Her head was still cradled in her hands, but she didn't seem quite as tense as she had before. 

"It…makes sense." When no other statement was forthcoming, he sighed.

"Ok…so, what are we going to do about it?" This time she looked up, confusion evident in her eyes.

"We?"

"Ummm…yeah. As in… we, Batgirl and Robin, the two of us, you and me."

"But…I thought…" He waited, trying not to be impatient, knowing how hard it was to form coherent thoughts when in the grips of a migraine. Unfortunately that knowledge didn't seem to be enough, as the silence grew longer.

"Batgirl, _what is it?_" She winced, and he regretted raising his voice, even though he hadn't spoken very much above a whisper. "Sorry."

"You said…I thought… since I am…um…com…compromised?…I can't…" Understanding lit Robin's face.

"Batgirl, I didn't say you were 'compromised'. In fact, I _believe _I said just the opposite." He sighed. "Ok, let's go over this one more time…" She groaned, lowering her head back into her hands. "You got hit with Joker's formula on the card. Because of the generality of the cure Batman used, or possibly because of something in you, you came out of it. Now the 'special' antidote is creating zombies, but you aren't affected. Why? I don't know. Maybe because you didn't use the specific antidote. _Or_ maybe this headache is an indicator that whatever device Joker's using to control the victims it _trying_ to work on you and it can't."

"Why not?"

"Well, you're probably not going to like this…but since you're incapacitated I'll risk it." She didn't react and he shook his head. "That was a jok…oh, never mind. You're probably not in the mood for humor right now…anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! My theory is that the reason Joker can't control you is the same reason you can't read." This time she did look up.

"You said all that before."

"Yeah…?"

"And I said it made sense."

"Yeah…ok…so what part made you think that you couldn't…"

"If Joker's…thing is in my…head…what if it gets through?" She didn't quite manage to disguise the despair in her voice, and Robin nodded sympathetically.

"I really don't think it will…it hasn't yet, and usually there is _some_ kind of time limit to these things, you know…like if it can't get control of you almost immediately it probably won't ever. And if it does, well, that's what I'm here for, right?" She didn't seem convinced. Of course, knowing her combat skills and ability to predict movements…he wasn't really feeling convinced himself. He sighed. "Listen, the truth is, I _don't_ think it will make it through. Like I said before, we know you have trouble reading, right? And the article by Dr. Friedman said people with language problems often have differences… _physical_ differences…or chemical ones, too, I guess… but still, differences that aren't easily explainable. And with _those_ differences in _your_ brain…it could be that Joker's formula simply _can't_ work on you…which means _we_ have an ace up our sleeve that could be the difference between defeating the Joker and finding ourselves about six feet under."

* * *

To be continued… 


	18. Consequences

"I mean…who does he think he is?!"

"Batman."

"… That's not funny."

"Got you to stop your current rant."

"…"

"Oh, come on…you're not mad at _me_ now?"

"…"

"Fine. Ya big baby. I guess this means you wouldn't be interested in working out some frustrations on some thugs wreaking havoc down near the river?"

"…where, exactly, did you say they were?"

"I didn't. I was waiting for an apology."

"Heh. Fine. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"…um…for…"

"Oh for…ok repeat after me. I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry…"

"for being a thick-headed oaf…"

"for being…hey!"

"a thick-headed oaf…come on…"

"You are going to pay for this."

"I hope so."

"_sigh_…a _mumblemumble_"

"Not good enough, twenty-something wonder!"

"A thick-headed oaf…"

"See, that wasn't so hard! Now where was I…oh yeah…who let my anger get the better of me…"

"who let my anger get the better of me…"

"so that I couldn't calm down and let my incredibly intelligent girlfriend…"

"so that I couldn't calm down and let my incredibly intelligent, gorgeous, sexy, ho…"

"Stick to the script, Romeo."

"…girlfriend…"

"tell me where the nice punks are hiding so I can go beat them up."

"tell me where the nice punks are hiding so I can go beat them up. Now…please tell me?""Ha! Ok, down by the cannery…they're busting up equipment and basically just having a grand old time."

"Great! Sounds like I need to join the party."

"Did I mention that they look a little…out of it…if you know what I mean?"

"…I don't think…"

"Never stopped you before."

"Ha ha. He's not going to like…"

"So? All you heard was there was a break in…once there, did he _really_ expect you to just walk away?"

"……you're the _best_."

"I know."

* * *

The plan was put into action…they had followed the last of the released victims from the hospital. They had almost missed him, too. After taking time out to tend Batgirl's headache and explain Robin's theories, they had discovered that two of the remaining patients had already been released. Like Robin had pointed out…not a foolproof plan.

But they had managed to watch the last patient released; a homeless man with no family to pick him up. He kind of wandered aimlessly for a few minutes…long enough for Robin to begin to doubt that Joker was really behind the mind controlled mob. As they crouched on an overhang, watching the man idly shuffling along the sidewalk, Robin spoke up.

"I don't think this is…"

"Is too." Ok… he sighed. There were many reasons that Cassandra had been chosen as Batgirl. But right now, he wasn't sure if stubbornness was one of them. Tenacity _would_ be an asset when tracking down a villain or training for hours a day. But if she was wrong, they were wasting a _lot_ of time. Some of this thought must have been visible in his stance, though he didn't think he had moved a whole lot, as she sighed and continued, "He is moving like the others."

"But he's not _doing_ anything." She shrugged at his protest and he wished, not for the first time, that she would be a _little_ more communicative. After all, _he_ couldn't read people. Realizing his thoughts were beginning to sound sulky…and with his luck Batgirl would notice _that_, too…he quickly put the thoughts from his head.

Luckily for Robin's sanity, the man they were tailing did something…_unusual_ just about then. Instead of continuing on his meandering route he seemed to straighten a bit and moved purposefully towards a nearby pawn shop. Without any hesitation…in fact, without any indication that the man realized that there _were_ people on the sidewalk and street who could see what he was doing and may try to stop him…he quite calmly broke into the store.

"What the…" Robin knew that they were attempting to follow him back to Joker's lair. So it was not the natural inclination to foil a robbery, which he _was_ fighting, that caused his outburst. Rather it was the fact that the man they were following was a vagrant…a homeless man, with very little substance to his person. In truth, there was no way he should have been able to break down the locked and barred door guarding the entrance to the pawn shop. It _should_ have been difficult, if not impossible, for even a healthy, in-shape, body-builder…the whole purpose of the door was to keep intruders _out._ Yet this scrawny fellow had busted in like he was Superman, not even flinching at the impact.

"Come on." Batgirl tugged on his arm and he glanced at her, confused for a moment. She didn't wait for him but took off across the rooftop. As the shock of the man's feat began to wear off, Robin realized what she had in mind. There was undoubtedly a back door to the shop, leading into the alley nearby, and she had decided that _that_ was the route the thief would take.

Robin fell in behind her. In this case, she was undoubtedly the better leader. He had been momentarily stunned into inaction while _she_ had probably seen the man's intent and anticipated it, leaving no reason for her to hesitate.

For her part, Batgirl didn't stop to think about the man's strength or the how or why of any of it. She was still fighting the pain in her head, and hating herself for it. She could take multiple bullets without flinching…so why was _this_ pain hindering her? Robin didn't seem surprised, though she knew he had never really understood how intense her training had been when she was younger.

The problem was, _her_ strengths were all physical…speed, agility, natural ability to fight. Not to mention the body-reading. But though Robin's talents were more mental…meaning she should trust him when he told her the Joker wouldn't get inside her head…she was finding it difficult, if not impossible, to really believe. She alone could see how the victims of Joker's gas were under his control. No one else knew, as she did, that the people were, in a way, sleeping…yet they were not. There was a consciousness there, one other than the controller's. Each mind-controlled agent was aware on some level of what they were doing, and usually fighting against it.

It was _very_ subtle, to be sure. But she couldn't help worrying about Robin's words. The pain in her head…caused by Joker's gas. Maybe her brain _was_ different…or maybe all the victims had had really bad headaches right before falling under the madman's control. Maybe she would turn any second…unleashing her own talents on the young man beside her. Maybe…maybe….she fought a wave of nausea that she wasn't entirely sure came from the headache.

Maybe she would _kill_ him.

* * *

To be continued… 


	19. Decisions

Nightwing wasn't sure when his decision to disregard Batman's prohibition had solidified in his mind. He wasn't _technically_ one of Batman's agents…working in his own city with its own problems had given him a lot more autonomy. But old habits die hard, and when Batman had told him "no" he had backed down…for awhile, at least. Thank goodness for Babs. He would have come to his senses on his own…eventually…but she had a way of setting him straight without putting him on the defensive.

The gang wrecking up the warehouses down by the waterfront seemed like a good way to burn off steam _and_ get back onto the case. Plus Babs had promised not to tell Batman about the altercation…excusing herself by stating that she was _not_ Batman's keeper. He had told them time and again it was _his_ city and if he didn't know what was going on in _his_ city, then that was his own fault.

He really did love that woman.

So here he was, perched on a ledge, preparing to propel himself into what looked to be a massive, violent, and quite possibly bloody, brawl…telling himself that Batman _was_ wrong, and that it _was_ ok for him to be here. Then again…he gave a grim smile as he launched himself into the fray. At least physical exertion wasn't so controversial a subject.

"Oracle to Nightwing."

"Go ahead." He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The 'thugs'… a gang consisting of three policemen and two random people, possibly vagrants…were all unconscious and/or restrained. They had given him a tough time…though more because he was trying not to do them serious harm than because of their skills. The officers were talented enough to be a challenge, but he was better.

"Have you heard from Robin or Batgirl lately?"

"Ummmm, no...I would think _you_ would be in a better position to…"

"They haven't been online since…um…at least since your altercation in the cave. I was hoping you'd seen them out on the town." Nightwing had thrown a line out as Babs was speaking, pulling himself to a higher vantage point. He didn't figure he would 'just happen' to be able to see them, but he could hope.

"You said they went offline…when, exactly?"

"While you were playing the role of misunderstood teenage hero in an angst-filled movie."

"Thanks a lot." He scanned the skyline, hoping to find some hint of their whereabouts.

"Well, you two are…"

"All right, all right! I think the subject has been visited enough for the night."

"I was _just_…"

"I _get_ it, ok?" He sighed. "What makes you think this is a problem, anyway. Maybe they just went home."

"Like _you_ did?" He ignored her. His question had been largely rhetorical anyway. He knew that, like himself, Tim wouldn't agree with Batman, and he had proven himself capable of openly opposing him before. A smile tugged at his mouth at the memory of the time he had had to break up a fight between the Titans and the Justice League. Robin had been against Batman, even though Nightwing _knew_ Tim respected and believed in Batman…most of the time.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" he finally asked, growing serious once more. _He_ thought that the two younger heroes, especially Batgirl, could take care of themselves. But he also knew Babs' relationship with Cass tended to be a bit motherly at times. And he knew that Joker shouldn't ever be underestimated…after all, wasn't that the whole reason he had fought with Batman earlier in the evening?

"I'm not sure there's anything that can be _done…_ Tim's good enough to keep himself, and Cass, too, out of sight when he doesn't want to be found."

* * *

It wasn't hard to locate Joker's hideout this time. In fact, he had put up great big signs declaring that _this_, indeed, was where he was. In other words…a trap. But if they could outwit the trap they could gain new information on his _true_ whereabouts. Or…if he had chosen to remain to see if his most recent deathtrap worked, they could even catch him.

The homeless man they were following had surprised Robin when he had busted through the door, but Batgirl had noticed some subtle hints that indicated possible meta-human strength long before. The man had probably not even known about the powers…he wasn't a known criminal or super-villain, and with that strength he should have been able to find at least some kind of physical work to keep him off the streets. She had watched him, seeing that the mind _inside_ the man…the original mind, not the controller…was just as surprised as Robin had been. The man had stolen weapons…Joker wasn't being very creative with this plan, it seemed…no smiley faces or _anything_. Then they had followed him quite easily to an abandoned toy factory…which Robin declared made a _lot_ more sense than a _mattress_ factory… with lots of signs…painted signs, neon signs, even some signs made out of old toys. Someone had had a lot of time on his...or her…hands.

"Ok. I think we had better call for backup on this one." Batgirl made a face behind her mask at Robin's statement. Part of her wanted to insist that she didn't _need_ backup…if _Robin_ could take on Joker alone, _she_ would certainly be able to. But another voice…one that sounded annoyingly like Tim in a "logical" frame of mind…reminded her of her own doubts. Doubts about her reliability and the chance that she may fall under Joker's control. Doubts born of knowing that Batman would be _quite_ put out…as Alfred might put it…to find that she and Robin had gone on investigating without permission. And weaker, older doubts about her own worth in the grand scheme of things…doubts born of too many instances of failing to function in "normal" situations…not being able to read, and so on.

"Hmmm." She made the non-committal reply, keeping a close eye on the surrounding areas for movement.

"What 'hmmm'? We aren't about to…"

"_Ok."_ She winced as she heard the terseness in her own voice. She pointedly avoided looking over at him…knowing even without reading his stance that he would be confused.

"Hey, are you ok?" She found herself smiling at that…remembering his joke about a "line working" when they had been at the mattress factory.

"I…yes. Of course. Why?" He shifted position so that she couldn't avoid looking at him. He was still worried, it seemed, but now the worry was tainted with suspicion.

"Why? Well….let's see. You were suffering a migraine, which is almost reason enough to ask if you're ok, but then you snap at me and don't want to call for backup and…"

"Ok, ok!" Batgirl pushed back from the edge of the roof, swinging around to peer into a nearby alley so that she didn't have to meet Robin's knowing glance. When he didn't say anything more, she shrugged her shoulders. "So? Call him already."

Robin eyed her warily. She had been feeling bad all night, and maybe he shouldn't have pushed her…but she had seemed more taciturn than usual. More…something. He had a vague feeling that his prying may have…_unfortunate_ consequences…but he had to put any personal thoughts aside for now. He could worry about rifts in their friendship later. This was _Joker_. And Robin didn't dare deceive himself into thinking that having defeated him alone before would make this fight any easier. Even Batman didn't underestimate Joker. He sighed and switched on his comm.

"Robin to Batman…"

* * *

The investigation wasn't going quite as well as he'd planned.He had set up an analysis of the original chemical and the antidote, trying to find the connection that would allow him to break Joker's control on the victims. The computer had given him a list of qualities that could be connected, and he kept them in the back of his mind as he hunted.

At the moment he was standing over an unconscious member of the group of mind-controlled victims. He hadn't wanted to do them _serious_ harm…after all, they _were_ victims…but they were crucial clues in the puzzle. He had found a pair of them vandalizing the State Supreme Courthouse... painting grotesque smiles on the walls with neon colored spray paints.

One of the pair had been allowed to escape, but not before she had been caught and cuffed….roughed up just a bit, as well. He "hadn't tightened the flexicuffs enough", though, and when he had turned to deal with the second individual he "hadn't noticed" the woman running off. The micro-transmitter on the collar of her shirt should lead him to the Joker. That is, with any luck…and luck was not something he happened to be a big believer in.

He left the man tied up for the police and checked the computer in the Batmobile for any progress on the chemical analysis. It hadn't yet been completed. He supposed the next step would be to track the woman under Joker's control, though he didn't want to get too close to her and tip off his quarry. Instead he pulled out a small, portable tracking unit and homed in on the signal coming from the transmitter. The woman appeared to be heading towards the warehouse district, though that could change.

Time to go. He fired up the Batmobile's engines and roared off. The streets were unnaturally quiet…it seemed that the number of people, even vagrants or criminals, out and about after dark decreased proportionately to the number of days Joker had been out of Arkham. It didn't take him long to track the woman to an old toy factory. That figured. As Bruce Wayne he had _tried_ time and again to buy and renovate such unused buildings in the hope that it would decrease the number of possible hideouts for the villains of Gotham City to hide out in. Unfortunately it seemed that abandoned buildings kept popping up like flowers in the spring.

This particular factory had once been the birthplace of some popular fashion dolls…owned by LaBelle Toy Company. Batman checked the tracking device. Yes. She was here. A toy factory seemed a rather clichéd hideout for Joker…but there were enough of them in the city to make simply staking out all of them a somewhat impractical task…though not impossible.

Batman frowned. He had set up a net of sensors in this and most of the other factories in the city as a precaution against just such an occasion. Yet none had been triggered. He tapped a few buttons, bringing up readouts. They _seemed _to be in working order. Could it be that this factory was a decoy? Yet the woman had certainly gone inside…and failed to set off any of the alarms.

He exited the Batmobile and secured it, melting into the shadows. His movements were quick…confident. He intended to check out the sensors, to make sure they were still functioning, before following his target into the heart of the building.

Joker was clever, he would give him that much credit. He routinely checked the devices to make sure they hadn't been tampered with. With Joker on the loose he had been checking on those placed in the most likely hideouts nightly, so there shouldn't have been enough time to set up anything _too_ elaborate.

The line had been tapped into, he saw. A feedback loop…standard practice for getting around video surveillance. The infrared and motion sensors had been tampered with as well…and in much subtler ways. Joker was getting better. He made a mental note of the tampering, vowing to improve his devices as soon as possible, and moved on.

The whole facility was dark. There were some noises, probably rats and the settling of the building, but nothing that would indicate human life. He anticipated a trap. What he found, was…nothing. Forty-five minutes of investigation throughout the entire facility and he found nothing to indicate Joker had ever been here…other than the altered security devices, of course.

A sound behind him made him turn, catching a glimpse of movement. He followed…it was the same woman he had tagged earlier. She was a police-officer, or had been before Joker had gotten hold of her. It was entirely likely that her coming here had been a set-up… a wild goose chase. But he had to follow any leads.

This particular lead to a back room, one that had once been a storage unit, but that was now empty. Or rather, it _should_ have been empty. Instead it looked like all the weapons smugglers in Gotham had decided to store their caches together. Batgirl had mentioned that the man she had found had been taking weapons out of a previously unknown stockpile. It seemed that Joker was not only getting better at eluding capture…but at detective-style work, as well. Which didn't quite fit. Unless…it was possible that the knockout/mind-control gas wasn't the _only_ thing he'd been working on lately. Perhaps he had developed some formula to increase intelligence or cognitive abilities.

It wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities, certainly. But it was going to make his job a _whole_ lot more difficult. He checked the woman's location again, noting that she had moved deeper into the weapon room. He tagged the room with an automated signal device to alert the police, and followed.

He wasn't disappointed. This time, once he caught up with the woman, he found himself in a room that had obviously been lived in. Not by the Joker, perhaps, but there were plenty of signs to indicate recent habitation. Not the least of which were the three men sleeping in one corner under their coats. Batman slid a batarang out of his utility belt, just in case, as he silently approached the slumbering trio. He was within a foot of them when his communicator sprung to life.

"_stttsk.._bin to Batman." Damn. If he answered he would alert his targets, but he had no illusions that Robin and Batgirl had obeyed and stayed away from the case. If Robin was calling for backup, it was serious. He withdrew a new netting device, a silent mesh capable of restraining a couple of elephants, let alone a couple of mind-controlled police officers and a rather weak-looking homeless man. As the net restrained them they awoke and set up a racket, but without much effect.

"Go ahead, Robin."

* * *

To be continued… 


	20. Surveillance

"Oracle to Nightwing."

"What'cha got?" He had stuck around until the police collected the victims…though they had put up a good fight, he knew they _were_ victims…and was now on a rather unstructured patrol of the surrounding area.

"I've got some action for you down at the Laffpro toy factory."

"Joker?" Her hesitation told him everything he needed to know. "Have you told…"

"Not exactly. He…"

"'Not exactly'! What 'not exactly'! If this is it, you have to _tell_ him! You…"

"Will you chill? _I_ didn't tell_ him_…_he_ told _me_…sort of." When he didn't comment she took that as a good sign and continued, "I intercepted a call from Robin. It seems that he and Batgirl have stumbled upon Joker's lair…or one of them, anyway. Batman told them not to do anything until he got there." She paused, waiting for his reply. He didn't say anything for a moment. Instead he looked out over the city, pondering the wisdom of showing up at the "big showdown". Batman and Robin, not to mention Batgirl, could probably handle Joker on their own. And Batman _didn't_ want him around…he had made _that_ abundantly clear.

"Sound's like everything's under control, then." There was, if it was possible, an even longer pause than his had been. He could have kicked himself. He knew that she may not be willing to admit it, but she became more and more tense when Joker was on the loose. She wouldn't be comfortable until he was back in Arkham.

"It couldn't hurt to have more people there." He winced at the coolness of her tone.

"I didn't mea…"

"Just go check it out, ok? I have a bad feeling about this. Especially with Batgirl and Robin's disappearing act earlier." He could tell this was to be the end of the conversation. He stood for a moment on a protruding ledge, looking out over the city. The Laffpro toy factory had produced all kinds of toys, from dolls to toy cars and trucks, to mock weapons for little boys playing cowboys and Indians. Any of which the production machinery could be corrupted to make weapons, traps, and other forms of twisted torture.

There really was no question. He would go and he would help… whether he was wanted or not.

* * *

"So…I guess we just wait for now." Robin frowned as Batgirl simply shrugged. He had told Batman their location, Batman had told them to hold off until he got there, and that was that. "Um….you're cool with that, right?" He was usually good at stakeouts, but there was a tension between them that hadn't been there before…not recently, anyway. He sighed.

"Hmmm." At least that was _some_ sort of response. He watched as she shifted positions, apparently trying to get a better look at…something or other. He didn't see anything interesting, just flashing signs and empty alleys. She lowered her head against her knees and he felt a twinge of guilt. He should have insisted they return to the cave when he had first recognized her symptoms. He should made sure she was all right again before following their lead.

At the very _least_ he should have been a little more understanding when she was so curt earlier. Sure, she had been acting a little odd…well, ok a _lot_ odd…but that could be attributed to the migraine and the whole situation. Not to mention this was _Batgirl_ for crying out loud. She could do anything…except read, but they were working on that!...and to have to call backup would have irritated anyone. Even _he_ was annoyed, though he knew it was necessary, so he couldn't blame _her_…not really.

Then again...she had been evasive. She had never been evasive before. True, they hadn't been close enough to know if she had a tendency to get that way every once in awhile. It shouldn't have…have…hurt. That was the problem. Robin glanced at her to make sure she wasn't looking at him, then grimaced. That was the real problem, wasn't it? She had become elusive, hiding her thoughts and feelings inside herself and it had hurt. They had become so close over the past few weeks…

"Look." He turned, surprised out of his ruminations by her short command. He looked. A door on the side of the factory was swinging closed…and a flash of purple-clad leg was disappearing through it. "Joker!" She moved as if to leap from the building after him, so Robin latched onto her arm.

"Batman wants us to wait." She scowled at him. She did. Really. He thought it was quite effective, even through the mask. He had always thought that her cowl hid expressions…but not this one. Nope. Her irritation was clear, even before she pushed him back, almost knocking him over. She stayed put though.

"Hate waiting." He grinned at her grumbling. Hopefully it meant she was done being so peevish.

"We all do. It's probably why we're out here playing vigilante-hero instead of waiting for the 'system' to fix stuff for itself." She just shrugged…_again_. Apparently she wasn't. She started to move again, and again he stopped her. This time he thought he'd be safer grabbing her cape.

"Not…going…anywhere." Her words were short and choppy, and said as if she were trying to teach a three-year-old. Robin grinned once again.

"Can't be too careful, you know." She studied him for a second.

"You don't…trust me?" This time he was surprised enough to drop her cape.

"What! No! I mean, yes! I mean… Ca…um, Batgirl, of _course_ I trust you. I mean, I know myself how hard it is to wait, but I know you wouldn't…I mean, Batman said to stay here, but I know we weren't exactly following orders just by _being_ here, so it's tempting to just go ahead and nab Joker to prove we can, but we _can't_…I mean, I'm sure we _can_ but we _can't_ because…" at this point he shut up. More because Batgirl had moved so that she could clamp a hand over his mouth than because he was done rambling…but the effect was the same. Silence. Blessed silence. A sound so beautiful to her throbbing head that…well, it was lovely. She could tell he was uncomfortable, though, so she let him go, though not without a warning.

"Don't talk." He nodded, and even in the not-so-darkness of a city night she could see him flush with embarrassment. "Sorry." He didn't understand. Why was _she_ apologizing? She sighed. "I know you…trust me. I'm…in a bad mood." He laughed at that. He actually laughed! Not out loud, of course, but she could tell. "What's so funny?" He didn't answer and she wished, as she did sometimes, that she had a half-mask so she could stick her tongue out at him. "You can talk _now_."

"…ummm…" he wasn't sure what she wanted him to say.

"You were going to tell me…what was funny?"

"Nothing."

"You laughed!" He grinned at that. He couldn't help it. He had feared that, after the way she'd been acting all night, they wouldn't _ever_ get back to the easy camaraderie they'd had before.

"No, really. It's just…you said you were in a bad mood…and that _was_ kind of obvious." She cocked her head to the side, as if considering his words. Her silence lasted long enough that Robin was starting to worry. But she seemed to relax and even chuckled a little.

"Yeah. Obvious…" her voice trailed off and he realized she was staring at something behind him. He turned to see and everything went dark.

* * *

The area was lit with glaring neon signs declaring Joker's residence. But there was no sign of Batgirl or Robin. Batman scanned the surroundings. No sign of a struggle, either. They would have put up a fight if they had run into trouble. He frowned, considering. Robin wouldn't have called for backup and then disappeared. A movement caught his eye and his frowned morphed into an all-out scowl.

"What are you doing here?" Nightwing landed easily beside him and took a deep breath, telling himself that he was here to _help_ and not fight with Batman. Then again…who could resist?

"Nice to see you, too."

"I told you…"

"I can clearly recall what you said. I also seem to recall that two teenagers were _also_ included in that ludicrous ultimatum, and yet _they_ were out here and…" he broke off, his ire fading as he took in the situation. "They _were_ here, weren't they?" Batman gave a curt nod. "So where'd they go?"

"Good question." But it didn't appear to Nightwing that Batman had any more notion than he did. He considered his options. Try to find Robin and Batgirl. Assume they could take care of themselves and search for Joker instead. Or…he supposed he could always look for Joker _and_ the kids. Which, unfortunately, seemed to be the best option at the moment. He couldn't imagine _how…_ but their disappearance was all too likely some trick of Joker's.

"I…"

"Not now." Nightwing glowered at the back of Batman's head. Batman hadn't even known what he was going to _say_, for crying out loud! He opened his mouth to retort, but the voice of reason, sounding suspiciously like Babs' voice at the moment, came back to him…reminding him that now wasn't the time for arguing but for finding Joker and Robin and Batgirl. Besides…he had finally noticed what Batman had found.

Nightwing told himself not to jump to conclusions. They hadn't seen any sort of obvious signs of a fight. Robin was fine. Batgirl was fine. Everyone was fine. He was sure of it. They had probably just gotten nervous at facing Batman after disobeying his order to stay off the case. But he couldn't quite account for the current situation.

Batman was holding a razor-sharp playing card, one of Joker's trademark weapons. There was blood on the edge. Someone had gotten hurt, and recently. Batman was already pulling out a micro-analyzer, a tool he had developed to check out common clues like blood so that he didn't have to return to the cave. As he worked Nightwing looked around. There _had _to be more than just the card to work with. Maybe Joker had planted the card, trying to confuse Batman. Perhaps there _had_ been a fight, but Joker had cleaned up the scene…doubtful, given the amount of time that had passed between Robin's call and their arrival.

"Damn!" Batman simply looked over at him, as if admonishing him for the outburst. But Nightwing ignored him and crouched down next to a vent and reached through the opening to the tiny gap. A flash of color had caught his eye. Unfortunately his hand was too big to fit into the restricted space. He withdrew a pair of tweezers and this time managed to snag the object in question. It didn't come easily.

After a lot of tugging he finally had the object free of the vent. It was yellow. And black. And about five feet in length. It looked suspiciously like Robin's cape. Nightwing exchanged a glance with Batman. Even after the years working apart they had that connection…as if each knew the other's thoughts. Batman gave a slight nod, causing Nightwing to crush the fabric in his fists.

This wasn't just a ploy. This wasn't just a cape that _looked_ like Robin's. This was for real. The blood on the card had been Tim's.

* * *

To be continued... 


	21. A Little Bit of Trouble

Batgirl was not happy. She was…was…well, she didn't know _what_ she was, since words seemed to be failing her at the moment. She was, quite simply, _not happy._ She and Robin had been relaxing. Having fun again. She had been in so much pain earlier…and not thinking straight. She still feared that Joker might get control of her brain, but at that moment they had been relaxed. Batman was on his way…so even if she went crazy he could stop her…and Robin was laughing. She liked it when he laughed.

But now… well, now things were different, weren't they? Tim…not Robin, not anymore…was unconscious. So unconscious that Joker hadn't even bothered tying him up. No. He had shoved Robin's cape into a vent as a note to Batman. He had taken his mask, too. That was different. As far as she knew, Joker had never really cared about unmasking anyone. Well, maybe Batman, but even then he didn't care about identities…just killing. But he had taken the mask and his utility belt. And his shoes. Joker thought it was incredibly funny for some reason to take his shoes. Batgirl didn't understand.

And Batgirl? Well, that was where it got _really _funny. No, not funny. That was the wrong word. But here she was, put in an impossible position.

"Ohhhh…..give me a home, where the criminals roam, and Uncle Joker makes all the kiddies plaaaaay! Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word….and ol' Batsy is gone to staaaaay! Everybody!" Batgirl tried to clap her hands over her ears, but the chains around her wrists wouldn't let her. "Home, home in Gotham City! Where I come up with all these great ditties! Where Batman will die! And the kiddies will fry! And I'll rule until my dying daaaaaaaay!"

Joker had appeared at the top of a metal staircase leading to the second story of the large production room and had sung his horrid song all the way down the stairs. Now he burst into his insanse laugh again, making Batgirl wince. Her head, after all, _was_ still throbbing.

"Wooo hooo! You sing it Mistah J!" Harley stopped whatever it was she was doing to the big machine over in the corner and clapped. Joker took an exaggerated bow and then strode purposefully to where Tim lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. He considered him for a minute then, with a malicious grin, pulled back and kicked him as hard as he could.

"No!" Batgirl strained against her restraints as hard as she could. Joker turned to her and laughed.

"No? No? Did you hear that, Harley, the baby bat doesn't want me to play with my new toy! But it's so much fun!" He cackled again. Batgirl closed her eyes, thinking hard. She could do this…she had seen Batman and Robin and Nightwing escape, right? She could…but another searing pain stabbed through her head, obliterating the thought.

"But what's this? Awww. Baby bat isn't feeling well, is she? Well, don't worry! Doctor Joker's here to make it allll better!" She opened her eyes just in time to see his fist aimed at her stomach. She didn't have time to react…let alone the ability to do so.

That was the problem. Tim had been right. Joker _couldn't_ get inside her head. A fact which had sent him into an incoherent rage earlier…causing him to take a huge wrench to a machine and beat it into a pulp. She wasn't sure why he hadn't turned it on her or Tim….after all, she, as well as every member of the Bat-clan, knew he was capable of it. He _had _screamed at her that she _should_ be under his control…after all he had hit her with his card! He had waxed eloquently on the subject, including the fact that he had been looking forward to Batman's reaction to a traitor in his own crew. But, his ire spent, he had suddenly laughed and left the room. She really did _not _understand.

She _hadn't_ stood by when Robin was hit. She wouldn't do such a thing…she _wouldn't…_she _couldn't_. They had been laughing. And then suddenly Joker was there behind Tim and throwing the card…and it _was _obvious. She _knew_ he would attack…and how, too. Just like any other opponent. And she had acted. She had…she had…she had reached out to push Robin out of the way…and a blinding flash of light had come from inside her head and a bout of pain so intense she was sure she was dying.

But she hadn't died. No. It was worse. She had fainted. Passed out. And both of them had been captured. All because of a headache…a _headache._ She had failed. Failed Robin. Batman…Barbara… She had failed _everyone_. And the worst part was, Tim may end up dying, because of her. Just as she'd feared.

She kind of spasmed at the impact of Joker's fist in her stomach. It _hurt_. More than it should, she was sure. She was immune to pain, right? When she had awoken earlier she had found herself chained hand and foot to some structure. She had no idea what it was she was tied to, but she could catch glimpses of garish colors and supposed it was another of Joker's crazy themed objects. The room seemed to spin and she feared she would pass out again as the pain in her stomach caused a corresponding, yet much more intense, pain in her head.

"What? Nothing to say? You're such a party pooper!" Joker complained. Batgirl forced her eyes to open, wishing she could come up with a really good comeback, like the kind Nightwing and Robin were so good at. But Joker was moving with…was it deadly or simply malicious…she couldn't tell!…intent towards Tim. Batgirl tried to protest, struggling against her chains but she could feel the darkness closing in on her again, throbbing ever closer to total oblivion in time with the pounding in her head. The last thing she was aware of as she lost her hold on consciousness was Joker's maniacal laughter.

* * *

"What do you mean '_trouble'_!" Babs's voice was definitely on the shrill edge be the time she finished her question. Nightwing winced. How was it that he had been selected to contact Oracle, again? "…_was_ he! I mean, he got the call, like, _hours _ago! And…" oh, yeah. He could be off the hook since Babs knew where he had been and she was the one to contact him. Batman, though, was fair game. At the moment he was investigating the surrounding area _much_ more thoroughly than either of them had to begin with.

"Um, well I think…"  
"You think? You _think_! If you were _thinking_ you would have…." Nightwing tuned her out again. Apparently he wasn't immune either. He knew he shouldn't blame her…she was just worried. And probably feeling helpless. She had a _bad_ overprotective streak. He knew she had gotten into it with Dinah once when she had been captured and beat up…Babs had wanted her to quit being a field agent. It hadn't gone over well.

"Enough." That was Batman. "We don't have time for this." He held out some evidence bags…a few hairs here, a bit of mud there...and a… note?

"Hmmm, I'll take, 'note' for 200, Alex" Batman's glare told him quite plainly that now was _not _the time for jokes. Nightwing shrugged. Everyone dealt with stress their own way…Bab's screeched and Dick joked. Tim clammed to think of it, so did Bruce and Cass. A grin caught his mouth, but he suppressed it, lest Batman decide to take offense.

"A note? What's it say?" Babs was done being crazy and back in full Oracle mode.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? So explain to me why it's a _note_ and not a blank piece of paper?" At her question, Nightwing _did_ grin. Though it wasn't a pleasant one.

"Because it's not blank. It just doesn't have anything written on it."

"…Explain." She sounded reluctant, as if she knew what the note contained.

"It's a playing card…a paper one," he clarified. "it has a picture of the Gotham harbor on the back, one of the decks for tourists. The other side…it's the Joker card, but it's got a smiley face painted over it. In blood." There was silence on the other end. Whoops. All they had told Babs was that Batgirl and Robin were missing and might be in trouble. They hadn't mentioned the cape and razor-card.

"What else?" Apparently she realized that.

"Um…."

"Dick!" Ok, if she was going first-name rather than remembering to keep to secret ID's, even though she didn't _have _to, it being on a secure line, then he'd better let her know everything.

"Ok, ok." He sighed. "We found Robin's cape. And one of Joker's razor-cards…with Ti…um Robin's blood on it." Silence. He waited for her to digest that.

"And Batgirl?"

"Missing, like I said, but we haven't found anything on her." A longer silence. Nightwing kind of hung his head, knowing the feelings that had to be coursing through her at the moment.

"I…I have a trace on Robin."

"What!" This was a surprise. Why had she called in so worried earlier if…

"Well, I haven't had it activated in a long time…I sort of forgot about it. I snuck a tracer into one of his shoes after…well, after Steph died…I was _worried_ about him," she was defensive, though Nightwing wasn't about to argue with her! "So I kept tabs of his movements to make sure he didn't put himself into any extreme situations…you know, on purpose. But he got better and I turned it off. I just remembered it." Well, better late than never, he supposed.

"Well?" Batman had stayed out of the conversation up to this point.

"He's apparently down near pier 245. Guess the card really _was_ a kind of note." Nightwing nodded decisively, preparing to head towards the pier posthaste.

"Wait." Something didn't feel right. It wasn't unheard of for Joker to leave an obvious trail…especially if he hoped to lure Batman into a death trap. Yet…why the trouble to put up signs here? He turned and examined the factory. Joker _could_ be trying to throw them off the scent. Then again, maybe he was just being even more thorough in his quest to call all the shots. He would think it a great joke to lead Batman all over the city in a wild goose chase. But would it be a wild goose chase? That was the question. Would he lead them all over only to disappear once again? Or would he finally lead them to the ambush that he was _sure_ would kill Batman once and for all?

"Let's go." Having made up his mind, Batman didn't hesitate. He swung into the night, heading towards the docks. Nightwing shook his head and followed. He wished Batman had seen fit to share his musings with the rest of the team. Then again, it wasn't as if Batman really considered them a team these days.

* * *

She awoke to silence. There wasn't even an echo of Joker's laugh, though she seemed to hear it inside her head. She kept her eyes closed, fearing the pain…and fearing what she'd see once she no longer had the refuge of the dark. The again…as she pried one eye open, she realized that, open or closed, she was _still_ in the dark. Someone had turned out the lights. At least her head seemed to be feeling better.

And she wasn't tied up. She flexed her arm as if to reassure herself that it wasn't just a dream or hallucination induced by one of Joker's noxious gasses. It sure _seemed_ real. She blinked into the darkness, wondering what he was up to _this_ time. She tested her legs next, rather surprised to find that she could stand unhindered.

"Robin?" She hated that her voice came out so…so…quiet. Soft and uncertain…yet it echoed in the darkness. She swallowed, suddenly afraid…a feeling that left her doubly unsettled, as it was one she was unaccustomed to. There was no answer. She shivered, unsure as to why…it wasn't cold.

"Ahh. You're awake. Goody!" She moved instantly into a defensive position, though in the darkness she couldn't even tell where the voice was coming from. "I _had_ so hoped you'd be conscious for the next part of the evening's entertainment!" As he spoke a bright light pierced the darkness…and, she was sure, her eyes. No, really. She could _swear_ the light _actually_ stabbed her in the eyes.

"You… you…what did…" she hated her tongue. Hated that she still experienced difficulty when she was in an emotional state.

"Cat got your tongue? HEEheehee! Or maybe I should say bat? Or perhaps a _bird?_ HAhahahaha heeheeheeheehee!" Batgirl gritted her teeth against the screechy laugh. Her eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the light…she could see now that it was a single spotlight, aimed at her in the still-darkened room.

"Come…come out here where I can see you!" The only reply she received was more of his patented laughter. She had a random thought that if he just figured out how to bottle that laugh he wouldn't need gas or bombs or anything. It was a potent enough weapon by itself.

Batgirl shook her head a bit, trying to clear it. She had to get out of here. Find Tim. If he was…no. She wasn't going down _that_ road. Joker suddenly stopped laughing. She tensed, readying herself for…well, _whatever_ he was planning. Another light flickered on, making her wince. But though the first light was aimed at her, this light was pointed straight at….a door?

She could see a little more of her surroundings now. She was in a large room, with no obvious ways out…well, except for that door. And the walkway on which Joker was standing, nearly thirty feet above her. There _were_ a few…pipes?...sprouting out of the walls. She narrowed her eyes. Pipes? Maybe this _wasn't_ a room. Maybe it was something in the factory for holding or making…well, something.

"HEEheehee! Well, kiddo, I'd just _love_ to stay and chat, but I have an appointment to keep!" He danced a little jig, and for _once_ Batgirl could tell by his movements what he was thinking. He had a trap. Somewhere. For Batman. Of course, Batgirl would _never_ be so disloyal as to think that _Joker _could defeat _Batman_…but she allowed herself just the _teensiest _bit of worry for Batman's well-being. She didn't have long to worry about it, though, as she was too busy worrying about her _own_ predicament.

"All set, Mistah J!" Harley came running up to Joker on the catwalk up above.

"Brilliant! Oh, before I forget," he turned his attention back to Batgirl, "I want to introduce you to my newest minion!" The door with the light aimed at it began to creak open. Batgirl braced herself, wondering if Joker had somehow gotten hold of a monster or metahuman. But as the light revealed the figure within she felt her heart sink. Because it wasn't a monster. It was Tim. Awake, but obviously under Joker's control. And she knew just what it was Joker was planning on having Tim do, too.

"Don't…!" but before she could figure out what she wanted to tell Joker _not_ to do…he did it. Tim kind of shuffled forward. The door swung closed behind him with a _clang!_ and Batgirl tried not to cringe. Not to cringe at the noise, of course, because she was sure she could defeat Tim…if that was, indeed, what Joker had planned. It would take a bit of finesse to manage it without mangling her friend, but she was sure it could be done.

"Have fun, kiddos! Don't do anything _I_ wouldn't do! Heeeehahahaha!" He twisted something on a control panel, she couldn't see what, as he spoke, and then ran out the door, Harley close on his heels. Batgirl eyed Tim, who was approaching her with the obvious aim of fighting her. She could take him. She reached for her utility belt, thinking that if she could just gas him unconscious, it would be the least painful…for all involved. Unfortunately her belt was gone. She glanced up at the catwalk above them. No belt meant no rope and no grapples and no way to get up there to make their escape.

Then the water began to flow out of the pipes and she realized how bleak her situation really was.

* * *

To be continued… 


	22. Something's Fishy 'Round Here

Gotham Harbor was smelly, polluted, and downright disgusting. In fact, it was just the place one would think to look for a slimy denizen of the Gotham underworld. That is, if one were unfamiliar with the way the underworld worked. Oh it was all too true that the lowest citizens occupied these dank spaces. But the powerful criminals…the masterminds and overlords…they were smart enough…not to mention _rich_ enough…to escape from the area.

Batman scanned the area, keeping his attention on the case at hand, but constantly aware of the young man by his side. Their "falling out" earlier had been a shame…especially since it hadn't seemed to deter him from the case one bit. Batman supposed he should be used to it. But there was something…something in the air tonight. Batgirl and Robin had disappeared, apparently at the hands of the Joker, and who knew how many casualties the night would bring. Was it really any wonder he had wanted his…son out of the line of fire?

Well, but then again, that had been the problem for too long. Dick was an adult. If he wanted to put himself in danger that was his decision. Besides, as much as he wanted to bring Joker down by himself…they had possible hostages to worry about now. He needed Nightwing, much as he hated to admit it.

"See anything?" Well. At least Nightwing _seemed_ to be willing to let him take charge. They'd see how long that would last.

"No." Now it was Nightwing's turn to be surprised. It wasn't often that Batman admitted that he didn't have the answer. He glanced over at his mentor, wondering vaguely if he was feeling all right. Only a few years ago he probably would have _asked_ him if he felt all right…needing to joke to release nervous energy. Heck, even a few _hours_ ago he would have had _some_ wisecrack. But suddenly the night seemed more ominous, and he probably couldn't have made a joke if his life depended on it...which it might very well do before the night was over.

"Look, there!" It wasn't much, a flash of light, caught out of the corner of his eye. It could have been a passing car…though there weren't any out and about at the moment, or light glinting off a puddle…except that it was unseasonably dry. Batman nodded once and it was as if the years fell away. They may no longer be the dynamic duo, Batman and Robin, but some things were hard to forget, and working in such unison, in tandem, as a _team_…well, that just came naturally…whether Batman would admit it or not.

They landed on opposite sides of a door...one with a window at just the right height to have caught the moonlight when it was opened. The two crimefighters exchanged knowing glances. They didn't need words to make their plan. As one they burst into the building…an old fish cannery…ironically one of the brands Joker had tried to get money out of by copyrighting "Joker Fish". It seemed their adversary was running out of original ideas.

This _should_ have been encouraging…after all, if there was a chance he was resorting to old hideouts, then perhaps he would be up to his "old tricks"… as in, tricks he'd already tried and been defeated whilst attempting. Yet…some of his old tricks _had_ been successful…he had managed to ruin countless lives before being returned to Arkham.

"Um, do you notice anything…off about this set up?" Nightwing had come to a sudden stop just inside the entrance. Batman had to pull back a step in order not to run into the younger man. But his reprimand died on his lips as he took in the scene before him.

It was hard to resist the urge to rub his eyes. For he found himself standing inside the Batcave. Not the _real_ Batcave, of course. Not even a very good likeness. But it was obvious to anyone that this…this…_thing_ that Joker had created was meant to represent a secret lair of a crime-fighting bat! The fake cave had some eerie similarities to the real one. It was a little disturbing…to say the least…that Joker seemed to understand Batman so well. There was a central computer, with any number of smaller terminals. Bat-themed motorcycles, planes, boats…even a remarkably realistic Batmobile! Yet for all it's similarities… it was quite twisted.

"What the…?" Nightwing grinned as even Batman was unable to completely contain his bewilderment. The walls were spattered with what looked like blood…Nightwing told himself it only _looked_ like blood, as any other answer was too much to contemplate. There were multiple stuffed Batmen scattered around. Some were little…stuffed toys that could be bought at any Gotham souvenir stand. Others were nearly life-sized. All were mutilated in painful and bloody…_fake_ _blood_, he hoped…ways. It seemed that every death trap Joker had ever come up with was represented in some way. Nightwing sensed Batman stiffen beside him, and he glanced over, then followed his gaze.

"Damn…" There was a display…all too similar to one in the real cave…a Robin costume…this one torn and blackened...as if Joker had been reminiscing about his victory over Jason Todd. At some unspoken signal Batman and Nightwing moved into the room. This looked to be _the_ place…where it would all come down. Then again, it _could_ just be another decoy…an _elaborate _one, but a decoy, nonetheless.

* * *

Batgirl leapt sidewise at Tim's sudden charge, mentally berating herself. Stupid…_stupid. _She had allowed herself to be distracted by the water as it gushed out of the pipes and began to cover the floor. Although his will was not his own, she could see Tim's mind at work. She may be the better fighter, but he was the _thinker…_ he surely had enough tricks up his sleeve to make it a difficult fight.

"Ti…no, Ro...um…don't!" Batgirl ducked again as she tried to reason with him…knowing it probably wouldn't work. And the fact that she wasn't sure what to call him…what with his mask removed, yet still technically 'Robin'…wasn't about to help matters. He swung at her head, obviously trying to knock her unconscious, or at least off her feet where he could hold her under the rapidly rising water. She flipped backwards but slipped a little upon landing. She and Tim circled each other, each looking for the opportunity to attack.

"I…" Batgirl hesitated as Tim cut off his short outburst. Was it possible…could he break free of Joker's commands by sheer force of will? She could see flicker's of his own personality fighting the control…more than she had noticed in the other victims. Then again…she blocked another punch…perhaps she could just recognize it in Tim easier than she could in the strangers. Whatever bit of him had tried to escape moments ago was now firmly back under Joker's control.

"_Fight_ it! This…this…is not _you_….whoop!" Apparently the reasoning technique wasn't going to work a second time. Batgirl found herself dodging a swift kick and ducking under a following lunge. Enough was enough. She may not want to hurt Tim, but if she didn't he could end up hurting her…and most probably himself in the process. She had no illusions that Joker would necessarily allow his instrument to live on after completing his mission. He _could_…it would be a wonderful 'joke'…making Robin live with the guilt of killing his friend. But the temptation may be too strong for him to resist killing yet another Robin.

The water was making her sluggish…uncoordinated. Fortunately… it was having the same effect on Tim. Batgirl lunged, missing the precise area she needed to hit, but connecting with his shoulder. Tim lost his footing and splashed downward. He came up quickly, sputtering a bit, with a wicked glint in his eye. Batgirl stumbled back a bit…that look wasn't from Joker! Though his intent was still lethal, she could see Tim's own mischievousness aching to break through…Joker's control was just twisting it into a more violent form of retribution.

"Ha!" Batgirl managed to twist away from his grasp…mostly. He caught her cowl by the ear, pulling her mask off and very nearly chocking her in the process. She was sincerely glad Batman had insisted on fail-safes for capes…it would be too easy for a cape to become caught or entangled and end up strangling one of them. So when the pressure of Tim's pulling reached a certain strength the cowl disconnected from the cape. In theory the mechanism would cause the cape to fall away, leaving her masked…since Tim had hold of the cowl instead of the cape, well, both came undone.

"Hey!" She clenched her fists, glaring at him. He glanced at the mask in his hands, a bare hint of a smile reminiscent of the "real" Tim playing at the corners of his mouth. "Tim?" Maybe…maybe she could break through…she could _see_ him there…right below the surface. Maybe Cassandra could succeed where Batgirl had failed. He blinked for a moment, as if confused.

"Ca…um? Buh…" She frowned. He wasn't making any sense! Suddenly his face hardened, control once again lost. Cass prepared to block another attack, calculating the fastest way to bring him down. Unfortunately she hadn't _really_ counted on Tim's mental abilities being brought to bear against her…physical yes, but not mental. Who would have thought that Joker could control you and you could _still_ think!

She had moved to attack…intending a quick nerve-strike to knock him out, never mind the fact that the water was rising quickly and she _still_ hadn't figured a way out. Yet instead of connecting with the precise nerve to render him unconscious, she instead discovered that he had anticipated her. She was getting sloppy. She should be paying more attention to his thoughts and movements than the rising water or the fact that this was _Tim_…her friend…and…and..._why_ was it so hard for her to bring herself to attack him!

Her hesitation had cost her. _Tim_ may be her friend, but _Joker_ certainly wasn't. And right now she _had_ to remember that Joker was calling the shots. She had to treat Tim like _he_ was the Joker…well, maybe not _so_ harshly…she was liable to beat Joker into a pulp. Of course, if Tim didn't let go of her hair…she may be tempted to beat _him_ to a pulp!

* * *

They had expected traps. In truth, how could anyone familiar with Joker _not_ expect traps? They knew what they were in for the moment they entered the fake Batcave. Which just made it all the more frustrating when, after nearly ten minutes of careful investigation, they had _still_ not run across anything remotely resembling a Joker-death-trap.

"Anything?" Nightwing straightened from where he had knelt at the foot of the giant computer. He considered carefully whether Batman's query had truly been in search of an answer or purely rhetorical. When Batman glanced his way he decided it must have been the former. _Had_ to have been…why _else_ would he be on the receiving end of a Bat-glare? Nightwing quickly hid a smile at the inner commentary. Was it any wonder that he and Batman didn't always see eye to eye? Even _he_ admitted he could be a little…well, irreverent at times. Didn't mean he _agreed_ with all the problems Batman seemed to find with him…just meant he recognized their differences.

"Uh…I haven't found anything significant…yet. Well, unless you consider the incredibly horrific twist on the…"

"Nightwing…" he should ignore Batman's warning growl…he _could_ ignore it…just let it go…he could work with Batman without fighting with him…Nightwing blew out a breath.

"Yeah, well…" he cut the retort off, deciding to let the matter drop. No point in arguing, not now. Instead he focused on the most eerily similar aspect of the "cave"… the Robin costume displayed in a glass case. Of course this one was without the memorial plaque, and had been burned nearly to a crisp, though it was still recognizable. Nightwing grimaced. Whatever his weaknesses, Joker _did_ know how to pull the right strings…the right buttons to push. One would think he _wanted_ to die…which, in fact, was probably true…with stipulations, of course. As he had proven after shooting Barbara, he would like nothing more than to cause a hero to become as crazy as himself, to cross that line…to kill, even if it meant his own death. Well, perhaps the _death _of Batman would be his ultimate goal, but driving them all crazy was a very close second.

Nightwing shook his head…and look how close Joker had come…so many times…to succeeding! His own actions had killed the clown, thought Batman had brought him back. Gordon had managed to maintain his own sanity, though probably just barely, as Joker forced him through a torturous funhouse full of images of Babs. Batman himself had come close to the edge after Jason's death.

Now…Batgirl and Robin were missing…how close would Joker come to succeeding this time? Would they ever see either of the youngsters again? A sharp pain in his hand made Nightwing glance down in surprise. He hadn't realized he was clenching his fist so hard. He looked back to where Batman was inspecting a dummy Batman that had been half-eaten by…something. Probably a shark. Nightwing remembered that he had used a shark to try to kill Batman at least once. A shark, or piranhas…something aquatic, since the dummy was also draped with a few strings of seaweed. Other dummys were similarly decked in ways assumed to represent various failed death-traps over the years and how they _should_ have succeeded.

"Look at this." Nightwing moved to Batman's side. There was a door…a false wall panel, obvious to any amateur detective. Most likely the trap they'd been waiting for. Batman pried the panel open, both of them tensed for an attack. They weren't disappointed. A loud explosion threw them backwards, but was more bark than bite, as neither of them found themselves injured. And indeed, it seemed that may have been the point, for behind what had once been the fake panel was a brightly painted sign that read: GOTCHA!

"Well. _That's_ original." Nightwing dusted himself off, glaring at the colorful sign. Batman simply grunted. They both stood, wondering what _other_ surprises were in store for them. They didn't have to wait long.

"Do you _really_ think so? Why, I'm _touched_!" Nightwing whirled and Batman tensed at the sound of Joker's voice. Scanning the room they saw no sign of him, but the echo of his laugh grated against them.

"Touched in the _head_, you mean." Nightwing muttered.

"Ohhhhh. Now _that's_ not very nice! And just when I had thought to bring you a little present!" Joker appeared as a portion of the wall slid away. To give the clown credit, _this_ opening had escaped their immediate notice. Nightwing prepared for whatever nasty concoction Joker had come up with _this_ time as a "present"…he and Batman had already been prepared for any attempts at gaseous poisoning…both by wearing masks _and_ by smoothing a special salve all over their bodies to prevent any attack by gas that would absorb through the skin.

"Don't even _think_ about it, Joker." Said with such a matter of fact and forceful air that Nightwing was hard-pressed not to grin. Batman _knew_ Joker would never comply with his orders, yet he always insisted on giving them.

"Why Batman! I don't know _what_ you're talking about! HEEhehehehehe!" He did a little jig then whirled suddenly, hurling something at them. Nightwing instinctively ducked out of the way, but Batman reached out a caught the projectile. The object dangled from his fingers…not the deadly missile Nightwing had assumed…but a rather familiar utility belt. Batman handed it to Nightwing without a glance, intent, instead on the Joker who was cackling and jumping about.

"Where are they, Joker!" If Batman's voice seemed a little deeper, more gravelly, more intense, one _could_ attribute it to the distortions of the gas mask…but Nightwing knew better.

"What? Who?" Joker laughed again and began skipping down the corridor that he had entered from. Batman ran to follow…Joker wasn't going to get away _this_ time! Nightwing hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the belt in his hand. Batgirl's. Joker hadn't apparently tried to get _in_ to the belt…there were defense mechanisms in place to prevent their technology getting into the wrong hands, and none had been triggered…but the fact that it was no longer attached to Batgirl's waist didn't bode well. Nightwing looped the belt through his own, trying to think positively…when they found Batgirl, she'd want it back. His eyes narrowed as he followed Batman and the Joker through the corridor.

"If so much as a…" he growled to himself. The tunnel suddenly veered sharply to the right and Nightwing slowed to take the corner in a more cautious manner. He rounded it without incident but was brought up short by the sight that greeted him. Well…crap. _This_ was unexpected.

* * *

To be continued… 


	23. Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

"Where _are_ they?" Batman was in no mood for Joker's games. He had the clown by the neck and had hoisted him off the floor and shoved him up against one wall. Or, more accurately, up against the one bit of clear space _on_ the one wall. The rest of the wall space…in fact, pretty much the rest of the whole _room_…was taken up by huge machines. Supercomputers, what looked like robots...and a lot of other stuff Nightwing didn't recognize. The robots had thrown him for a moment…while Joker _had_ come up with robotic thugs or traps in the past, it wasn't a well-known quirk of his MO.

"Errk…heh…cough" It wasn't as bad as he'd first thought…Joker wasn't in any danger of immediate asphyxiation…Batman was still in control…not that Nightwing could ever see him _losing_ control. But the stupid clown wasn't answering…just trying to laugh in Batman's face…that's gonna cost him. Nightwing grinned as Batman roughed Joker up a bit. He turned his attention to the room. Batman had Joker under control, but Harley Quinn was still missing, and those robots looked like they could do some serious damage should they be activated.

"_There_ we go…" Nightwing spotted what looked like a control panel. He hopped over the console and examined the myriad buttons and levers. "Oooh….pretty!" He chuckled to himself…too bad Bab's wasn't "online" now…she had had a call from Dinah, _and_ she wanted to see if she couldn't try a few more ways to locate Robin and Batgirl. Of course, Nightwing had a feeling that she may also simply _not_ have wanted to be present to hear the exchanges between the heroes and Joker.

A crash behind him made him glance back, but Batman still seemed to have things well in hand. A movement caught his eye, though, and he sighed. Well, seemed like Harley decided to join the party after all. He abandoned his attempts at figuring out the console and moved to intercept…after all, she was stalking towards Batman with an obvious purpose…and a very large mallet.

"I'll take that!" He grabbed for the mallet and she jumped backwards, apparently surprised. What? Had she not seen him? All the better! He lunged again, ducking as she swung the weapon at him. He managed to get one hand around the handle, and a short round of tug-of-war ensued.

"Ya want it? Allll-righty!" Harley suddenly released the mallet, leaving it in Nightwing's hands. He frowned at it…if Harley didn't want it, it was probably rigged. He hurled it across the room, feeling both relieved and vindicated that his hunch had been right on target as the thing exploded, taking out a good portion of the wall. The explosion and resulting cascade of debris and dust distracted both Batman and Joker from their attempts to maim one another…Batman checking to make sure Nightwing was all right, and Joker taking advantage of the distraction to escape Batman's grasp and instead attack Harley.

"Didn't I tell you to stay out of this?" For a man whose face was permanently white, the remarkable shade of red that it was turning was quite fascinating.

"But Puddin…erk!" Joker had Harley by the neck this time, and somehow Nightwing doubted he'd be as restrained with her as Batman had been with him. He sighed…insane criminal or not, he really should remove Harley from her "puddin's" grasp. He had only moved three steps, though, when another explosion shook the building.

"What's this?" Harley, taking advantage of Joker's new distraction, squirmed away and made a run for it. Joker began a rather eloquent monologue of a tirade against the building, which had apparently taken exception to the rigged mallet's explosion and was now in the process of destroying itself.

"Come on!" Batman pushed past Nightwing, catching Joker unaware and hitting him with a knockout gas…much easier to transport when he was unconscious. Nightwing grimaced as another of the machines erupted in flames…it would have been nice to know where all this stuff had come from…and what its purpose was. He followed everyone out of the room, pausing to glance back once more…which is when he noticed the gas tank. A huge tank…apparently there to fuel the robots, or as a back up generator, or something…the purpose was unimportant at the moment. What _was_ important was the fact that the container, if full, held enough to blow up not only _this_ building, but those surrounding it as well. As the room was even now being engulfed in flames, Nightwing estimated that only a minute or two, possibly only seconds, remained.

"At least all the buildings nearby are abandoned too…" he muttered as he made a mad dash for the exit. Then he skidded to a stop. Robin…Batgirl…Tim…Cass…they could still be in this or one of the neighboring buildings! "Damn!" He reached for his comm, "Batman! We've got a problem!"

"What?"

"Gas tank…going to blow." There was no response, but then Nightwing hadn't expected one. No time to waste words. He turned back, praying there was a way to stop the flames before they reached the tank. Before he could move he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Batman shoved him towards the exit.

"Joker's tied up, Quinn too. Get them out of here!" He turned and disappeared back into the smoke. Nightwing wanted to go after him…stop him…or help…or …or, well, damnit! _Something!_ They were his family too, after all. But he knew Batman's mind better than anyone else, save, perhaps, Alfred…and he knew what he had to do. He found Joker…and a pile of what were probably Joker's most prized possessions…another utility belt…Robin's…along with what looked like Robin's boots and…mask? He didn't have time nor inclination to ponder the ramifications of the discovery. Instead he dragged Joker towards the exit.

After what felt like years he finally made it outside…not that that would help him particularly…but he felt less confined. Harley was right outside, not having been willing to completely abandon her "puddin"…especially in light of the flames towering above them as the whole cannery went up. For once being somewhat reasonable she allowed Nightwing to prod her into a run as he hauled Joker towards the waiting Batmobile…Batman must have called it, as it certainly hadn't been there _before _they entered the edifice.

He threw Joker in, shoved Harley in after making sure she was restrained as well, and then hesitated. He couldn't just walk away! He punched in a few commands on the Batmobile's console, intending to send the two criminals back to Arkham, when a thought stuck him.

"Quinn! Where are they?" It was a long shot…she could be just as reticent as her lover. But he could save a lot of time if she would just…

"Don't know what you're talkin' about." She said it airily…would probably have waved her hand around had she not been tied up. Nightwing growled and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her and eliciting a startled "eep!" out of her.

"Listen, if you don't tell me where Batgirl and Robin are _right now_ I'm gonna send this car right back into that building there, understand?" Her eyes widened as she glanced back to where he was gesturing . He prayed her fright and general insanity would prevent her from realizing it was an idle threat…the Bats didn't kill. Luckily for him she didn't remember that slight detail.

"I don't _know_!" she wailed. He shoved her back against the seat and reached for the controls. "Wait! I…I really _don't_! Mistah J…he did the drivin' and I always was bad at directions!" Nightwing considered her thoughtfully.

"Driving? Then they're not inside?" He pointed to the burning building. She shook her head. "If you're…" he let the threat hang between them, though he was inclined to believe her. Her makeup had become smudged and wiped off in the struggles and from her tears…and underneath she was _still_ white as a sheet. She was scared…and that meant…

"Batman!" He toggled the comm again. There was no answer. He shook his fist at the fiery building. Stubborn...stupid… "Batman, listen! Robin, Batgirl…they're somewhere else. Do you copy? They aren't in the cannery…you have to get _out_! _Now!_" There was no response. Nightwing moved towards the building, only to be driven backwards as the building exploded. He could feel the exposed skin on his face burning, but at least the fire was far enough away that it would be more like a severe sunburn…Batman, on the other hand…may not have been so lucky.

* * *

The smoke was blinding…and had he not been wearing a gas mask already, he would have choked on it long before now. The decision to go back hadn't been difficult…it never was. Batman accepted it as part of the "job". He had turned around even before Nightwing had called him about the gas tank…his discovery of Robin's things had made him stop. He knew there was a remote possibility that the younger vigilantes weren't even _in_ this factory…Oracle had said she'd planted a trace on Robin's boot. A boot which was here, and not attached to the "boy wonder" himself. He prayed that that was the case…that only his boots and belt…and mask, a discovery he'd have to ponder later…if there _was_ a later…were here. That they were safe…as far as anyone under the Joker's power _could_ be safe…elsewhere.

While he hoped that was true, he couldn't take any chances. He didn't have time to find them…he had to stop the gas tank from exploding…_then_ worry about the fact that the whole building was being engulfed in flames. He reached the machinery-filled room…just in time for the ceiling to collapse, blocking his path to the gasoline tank. He pulled out a few capsules…two were filled with a chemical agent that would foam and act as a fire extinguisher…though not in a large enough quantity to make any significant dent on the current inferno. The others were also filled with chemicals…one used to flash-freeze objects, one that created a sticky web that solidified to trap someone or something, and another that was filled with a carbon dioxide/ chemical mixture that would push oxygen out of a room…commonly used to subdue large amounts of suspects in a room at once.

He threw all the capsules in a strategic pattern to give himself a fire-free area in which to work. It didn't clear the whole room, but he managed to make his way towards the tank…which somehow…miraculously, had yet to be touched by the deadly flames. Possibly this was because of it's position…back in a corner, more of a niche, actually, with walls on three sides, shielding it from the rest of the room. This also explained why he hadn't noticed it before…he hadn't looked backwards into the room as he left.

He considered the tank…it was much too large to try to remove…he could never carry it. A pipe ran down from the bottom of the tank; apparently to supply…something…with fuel. The valve was closed, so at least there weren't any leaks to worry about…a spark hitting a thin trickle could lead the fire right to it. Batman checked his utility belt. He had a few capsules left…he could see if any could form a coating around the vessel, protecting it until the fire was extinguished. Or…

"Batman!" Nightwing. He didn't have time for this. "Batman, listen! Robin, Batgirl…they're somewhere else. Do you copy? They aren't in the cannery…you have to get _out_! _Now!_" He hesitated…his mind was naturally skeptical…how _sure_ was Nightwing? Then he turned, moving with nearly super-human speed…the speed born of adrenaline and fear and…and the desire to survive. Nightwing wouldn't sacrifice Robin, nor Batgirl. Even as he passed out of the room, though, a flame licked at the edge of the gas tank. His eyes missing no detail, he recalled a drain a few feet away. Knowing that time was up he managed to kick off the screen, slipping inside just as the tank went up…taking the entire building with it.

* * *

To be continued… 


	24. What Did You Say?

"Nooo!" Nightwing shook himself out of his stupor. A small corner of his mind noted that he hadn't _heard_ his own scream…a byproduct of the explosion. He would, hopefully, regain hearing within a few minutes or hours…there was a slight chance he wouldn't regain it at all. But all that went through his mind in a heartbeat, not even registering on his consciousness. He scanned the flames, searching for some kind of movement, any indication that…wait. That was it!

"Oracle?" Nothing. Oh…yeah. She had turned their lines off…he'd have to switch to a different channel...not to mention he wouldn't know if she answered anyway, without his hearing. He flipped open the communication panel on his glove…there was a little screen there…he could get her to type her answers or something. He typed in the commands to connect him to her computer. Nearly instantaneously her face appeared, concerned. She said something…looked like "what is it" or "what happened" or…well, something. He shook his head.

"Can't hear you…explosion." He motioned to his ears, just in case his words weren't actually coming out right. She nodded, and reached off screen to fiddle with something. A black box appeared across the bottom of the screen, with a little icon-version of her Oracle hologram. Green words appeared.

:What happened:

"Xplosion." He didn't think that came out right, and frowned. She was fighting a smile, so it _must _have come out wrong…she sobered.

:You ok: He nodded. She thought for a second then… :Batman? Robin? Batgirl? What happened: He closed his eyes briefly, gathering strength.

"Don…know. Need you to…check on Bam..t..Ba-t-man." She nodded, fingers flying across her keyboard. She scanned something off screen, frowning. She considered carefully…too carefully…before typing again.

:He's always been difficult to track. He doesn't like people knowing what he's doing. He…:

"He's dead, isn't he?" Her eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously.

:No! No, I'm not saying that at all:

"But, it's true."

:Not necessarily. He's always been changing the codes to the subdural chips…Alfred might know…but I may simply not be able to get access right now.: Nightwing glanced back at the now-smoldering building. He didn't really think there was any chance Batman had survived…he'd been too close. Right in the heart of the explosion. Babs was typing away, though he could see her hands shaking.

He stared at the Batmobile…it was locked up tight, with Joker and Harley still inside. He couldn't let them think…let them _know_ that they had succeeded. But what could he…

"What's going on?" Nightwing jumped. Never mind the facrt that his hearing had decided to return suddenly and without warning…but…

"Buh-Batman!" He was hard-pressed not to leap for joy and give him a hug…not only were hugs not an approved method of showing feelings in the Bat-clan, buthesuspected...ok he_knew_... thatBatman enjoyed scaring people…even his friends and allies. Since the members of Team Bat were harder to scare than most…

"Y'know if you wanted to scare me there were easier ways to accomplish it than a near-death experience." He kept his tone light, but his eyes took in every detail of Batman's appearance. He hadn't escaped unscathed… his cape was definitely scorched, and there was blood running out from under the cowl…Nighwing wondered if that would be blood from the ears, since he _had_ been closer to the center of the explosion, or some _other _wound. Since Batman didn't reply to his query, he suspected he had at _least_ a similar amount of hearing loss as he himself had had…if not more.

"See, I _told_ you he wasn't…"

"That's enough, O. _Thank _you." She huffed, irritated at his cutting her off, but accepted that they needed to get back to business. Nightwing turned back, examining the man he'd called "partner" for years, the man he'd come to think of as a father…the man, who at this moment was looking dazed, slightly disoriented, and yet all too pleased with himself.

"You need to go home." He wasn't sure if Batman could hear him…but he knew he could read lips if he wanted. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth was the only indication that he had chosen to pay any attention. Nightwing narrowed his eyes. "I mean it. Joker's in custody…I can handle it from here. You need medical attention." Batman frowned.

"I need to find…"

"_I_ will find Robin and Batgirl…if they haven't already managed to extricate themselves from their situation, that is. Oracle will help…I'm sure we can get others if we need to." He threw a cocky grin. "I bet Superboy and Kid Flash would _love_ to…"

"No." Nightwing's grin broadened. Batman's anti-meta policies were infamous, and Robin had been hanging out with the two super-powered teens more and more often. He could see the resignation in Batman's shoulders, though. "I'll take in Joker and Quinn…then…go back to the cave. Keep me informed." Nightwing nodded. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to let Batman drive in his current condition…but that was probably the most he'd ever given in, so he was willing to let it go.

He watched the Batmobile as it headed towards Arkham…the fire crews had arrived and had everything under control as far as the blaze went. After the car was out of sight, Nightwing sighed and pulled out a decel line. He _really_ should have had his motorcycle out with him tonight. Well, that's what he got for storming out of the cave…he had taken one of the _other _'cycles…one not equipped with a homing device and auto-piloting function.

"Hey gorgeous," he grinned as he opened a channel.

"So?" He could tell she was still miffed at being cut out of the conversation earlier. Hmmm. Maybe flowers and a nice dinner…candles… "Hel-loo? Earth to Nightwing!" He smiled as she sighed loudly. So his mind was wandering…so what? Joker was caught and…oh, well, yeah, he needed to find the kids.

"So…any more bright ideas as to the location of our AWOL teens?" he asked, getting down to business. She was silent for a moment, and he wondered if that were a good sign…or a bad one.

"You're sure they weren't in, or near, the factory?" He pulled himself up towards the roof, considering how to answer.

"Yes. I'm sure." He said it as firmly as possible, trying not to recognize that he was attempting to convince himself as much as her. He reached the roof and crouched there, scanning the skyline and wondering where to begin.

"What about the _other_ factory?" He frowned at her question. Why hadn't _he_ thought of that?

"Laffco? Good idea. I'm heading out." He cut the connection and prepared to swing out. It made sense…that's where they had disappeared, and there was no written rule that Joker would transport them from that spot! Nightwing grinned as he leapt out into the night...things were finally looking up.

* * *

Cassandra sighed. She had known from the start that the mind-controlled people had retained their skills. And she had known Robin was a very skilled person. He'd _have_ to be, to be partner to Batman. But even knowing all this she had assumed that _all_ of Robin's skills were mental, and would therefore be inhibited by Joker's interference. How silly. How _stupid_. She glowered at him. Everyone was always making her feel stupid. And she could see now that she probably _was_…for her not to have realized Tim would be just as functional under mind-control. As far as athletic abilities, well, there was no question as to her being the best…but Tim was devious. And he had nearly gotten the better of her numerous times now! It should have been so simple to just knock him out with a quick nerve strike…or, if that wasn't an option, then at _least _she should have been able to land a good solid blow to his head so that he was unconscious long enough to get them both out of here! 

But noooo. They had been struggling against each other for nearly half an hour now, and she had yet to get in a good strike. The water continued to pour in…now up past her waist, making every move sluggish, uncoordinated, and simply ineffective. In _this_, Tim had the advantage. He had the brain power to figure out good moves to use the water to his advantage…putting Cass on the defensive. She had nearly been pulled under more times that she cared to count…of course, she really wouldn't be all too willing to admit that Tim had gotten the better of her even _once_...and was having to concentrate too much on simply keeping her footing.

It wasn't that she couldn't swim…that had, of course, been part of her training. But one always had to be aware that one could only spend _so much_ time under water before one found oneself dangerously short of air. And without her utility belt, she had no access to a rebreather.

"Stop that!" Tim had started splashing her…much as she'd seen kids at swimming pools do…but with much more vicious intent. She glared at him. Two could play at _that_ game. She considered her options. Tim probably had at least fifty pounds on her…once the water reached a level where they couldn't stand all he'd have to do was shove her under long enough for her to lose consciousness and drown. She could _let_ that happen…at least she would finally be able to get close enough to try a nerve strike…but there was always the possibility that she would end up in a position in which she couldn't make that strike.

Tim managed to hit her right in the face with a blast of water, causing her to choke a bit…and blink rapidly, trying desperately to clear her eyes. With the roar of the water she couldn't place Tim's movements by sound alone. She blinked once more and opened her eyes…only to discover Tim had disappeared! She started to turn, instinctively anticipating his attack, but she didn't possess the same thought processes as he.

He caught her at the knees. He had gone _under_ the water to knock her down, instead of moving around behind her. She barely had time to gasp in a quick breath before the water closed over her head. She fought towards the surface, trying to regain her footing. But, just as she had predicted, Tim was able to keep her under, almost by sheer weight difference…though she had to admit that he was pretty talented at keeping his own footing and outmaneuvering any attempt on her part to hit any vulnerable spots on his body.

Spots began to flicker in her eyes as the lack of air began to take its toll. She felt a shudder run through her body with the knowledge that she couldn't do anything…that this really _was_ the end. She was just succumbing to the darkness when the pressure holding her down suddenly eased. Without thought she propelled herself to the surface, idly noticing that the water level had reached a point where standing was no longer an option. She gulped in great gasps of air as she tread water…it wasn't until she had convinced her lungs that, yes, they had plenty of air that she thought to wonder what had happened to Tim.

* * *

To be continued… 


	25. Climax

A pipe burst. Water poured in with even more speed and force than it had been. Cassandra fought the waves caused by this new influx, trying to keep her head up…drowning seemed such a _tame_ way to go…especially if one drowned without being held under by one's opponent. Speaking of which…she glanced about, trying to locate Tim. A flash of color caught her eye and she couldn't quite keep from crying out.

He was just floating there…face down, motionless in the water. What had happened to him? How long had he been like that? Was he dead? Cass swam over to him, turning him over on his back, praying that he wasn't. He wasn't breathing.

"No!" she thumped his chest with one hand, unable to do much more in the water. Luckily it seemed to be enough, at least for now, for he sort of jerked, then coughed out some water. He was breathing! But his breathing was shallow…and he seemed to still be unconscious.

"Um…Tim?" No answer. She sighed. Ok. At least he wasn't trying to _kill_ her anymore. She looked up to the catwalk, surprised to see how much closer it seemed. The water was rising faster than she'd thought. If she could just keep Tim from falling under water…not to mention herself… then within a few minutes they would be able to reach the platform. She could get out and get Tim out…and they'd escape and go help Batman fight Joker!

Well…that was the plan, anyway. The lack of oxygen she'd suffered from was making her tired…more tired than treading water usually would…and with Tim's added weight she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep them from slipping under.

"Wake up." Her command went unheeded. She stroked through the water, pulling Tim along like a saturated puppet. Now it was a race…between her arms giving out and the water rising high enough for her to reach the catwalk.

* * *

"So then _she _said…hold on a second." Nightwing shook his head. Babs was still online with Dinah, who was taking on an ambitious scientist…bent, of course, on ruling the world…in Malaysia. He completed a swing, coming to rest on a window ledge. He could see the factory. It seemed…quiet. The neon signs Joker had put up had disappeared. Well, not disappeared, exactly. They had been turned off in any case.

"Ok, I'm back."

"Everything ok?" He scanned the area, hoping for some indication as to where the search should begin.

"Yeah, just the usual…taking on ten, twenty armed thugs at a time."

"Ah, no big, then." Well, it looked like the best course of action would be to enter the building and take a look around.

It was dark and dusty, natural for an abandoned building. Nightwing examined the room he had entered…the one with all the now unlit signs pointing to it. It was mostly empty. There were some machines on one side…from the looks of them they were relics from the factory's heyday. A sound to his left startled him and he shifted instinctively into a defensive crouch. But it was just a rat. The creature's eyes glinted at him in the faint light coming in through the windows. Its nose twitched a few times then it scampered off into the shadows.

"Hey Oracle, you got any eyes in here?" He followed a hunch, moving in the direction from which the rat had come.

"Sorry. Can't exactly hack into nonexistent security systems." His eyes probed the darkness, seeking invisible traps.

"Right."

"I _do_ have layouts, though." He paused.

"Any rooms looking like good places for deathtraps?" He barely heard her fingers clicking away on the keyboard.

"A couple…there's a melting room…for melting down the metals and plastics for the toys, no doubt…or, oh this looks good…a super-cooled flash freezer. Hmmm…there's a chemical tank, for disposing and diluting all those unwanted toxic substances." Nightwing grinned at her tone. Her lighthearted banter was most likely a way to keep herself, and possibly him, from fearing the worst…he wasn't sure how well it worked for her, but it was sure working for him. Then again, he'd always used humor to lighten tense situations.

"Right, well, I think the freezers would be the first priority, since we don't want them to freeze."

"Of course," she replied wryly, "because being eaten away by acid or burned to a crisp would take so much _longer_ to work." Nightwing smiled, but in a much grimmer manner…the fun had been taken out of it again.

"That's rather my point…if they're in one of the other rooms…we…well they've been there too long for us to aid them anymore." His voice trailed away to a near whisper at the end. He couldn't imagine the loss of Batgirl and Robin. No, Cassandra and Tim…they were _family_. The silence on the other end of the line made him wince. He didn't have to _remind_ her. "Uh…anyways, how do I get where I'm going in this labyrinth?" She let out a watery laugh, and he cursed himself again…this night was hell on her, he knew.

"Take a right back in the first room you entered instead of a left…I'll give you the rest as you go."

* * *

The water closed over her head for the third time. It wasn't rising fast enough…she was out of energy. She couldn't hold Tim up _and_ keep herself from drowning. She flailed about blindly. No use. Tim's limp body slipped from her fingers…and she _almost_ let him. Her instincts, every muscle, vessel, and fiber of her being screaming for self-preservation.

Then she felt it.

Metal. Cold and hard…and right above her. With a surge of renewed energy she latched onto it, catching Tim just as he was about to slide away. Pulling, tugging…struggling, she managed to get Tim out of the water at last. She paused for a moment, clinging to the walkway like a half-drowned cat…or was it rat? Heck, she was all _bat_! But whatever the species, she hung there limply…any energy she had received from the knowledge that salvation was at hand having been sapped by her exertions to save Tim first.

A movement out of the corner of her eye brought her consciousness back to the problem at hand. She focused on Tim…there it was again! His head moved. Good. He was waking up. _He _could figure out how to get out of here now. The smile faded from her lips. Or not. What if he woke up still in Joker's trance? She sighed as his head wobbled again, realizing that it was just the water, still rising, that was lapping at his body, making him appear to move.

Which meant it was time for _her_ to move, too. Gathering her remaining strength she heaved herself out of the water and onto the platform. She lay motionless for a moment, catching her breath. But she knew she didn't have much time before the water swallowed them up. She dragged Tim across the floor, though he was floating more than dragging, to the control box that Joker had messed with. She propped him up against it, hoping his head was high enough for him not to drown. She frowned down at him, then sighed.

"Ok. Now which one…?" she turned to the panel hoping there would only be the one knob, or at least only a few, so she could turn off the water and open the door. Today was _not_ her day for wishes being granted. The big box looked more like the dashboard of a jet plane than a simple switchboard. Luckily each button, knob, and lever was clearly labeled…Cass closed her eyes, struggling against the growing feeling of defeat. She could do this…she_ could_! She had been practicing…writing, reading. She could…she…she hung her head. The letters were all jumbled again. A nudge against her leg made her glance down. Tim's body was starting to slump over due to the water pressure.

Cass bit her lip. Ok. No help was about to appear from _that_ direction, obviously. She narrowed her eyes. And why should it? No. _This_ time she was going to be the one to figure things out. _She _would be the detective!

"Ok then, Sherlock…" she muttered, then grinned. It seemed that she was spending too much time with Tim. His sense of humor was rubbing off on her! She sobered, focusing on the control panel. The water was sloshing against her calves…time to get to work. With the tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated, she examined the first button.

"See. Aitch. Eee. Em. Eye. See. Aey. Ell. Che…no, Kem-_i_-cal…Grr." She sighed, exasperated. Well, _this_ method would never get them out in time! Angrily she lashed out, striking randomly at the buttons and levers. After she had hit three of them, the floor shuddered beneath her. She paused, belatedly realizing that _this_ method wasn't the brightest either. A small opening appeared in the far wall and an orangeish goo began oozing out. As it touched the water a _hissssing_ sound could be heard and a thick cloud of smoke or steam began to rise.

"um… oops?" She turned back to the panel again. Now what? She glanced down at Tim again. _Why_ couldn't he wake up and _help_! She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She tried to bring up the image of the alphabet in her mind. Then she tried to mentally _write_ out the words she needed to look for. Which ones? A moment of panic assailed her, but she pushed it back. Ok. Water, of course. Off. Door. Exit? Maybe…she wasn't sure about that one. Fixing the image in her mind she opened her eyes and looked down again.

"There!" Her hand flew out grabbing a dial. She twisted it…nothing. She glared at the knob. She _knew _it was the right one! She turned it the other direction. There was a loud _clank_. Then a grinding noise and a door started to slide open on the other end of the walkway. A wave of relief flooded through her and she grabbed Tim. It was harder to move him this time, as all the water was rushing out of the open door.

She hefted him over her shoulder and began to trudge towards the exit. After only three or four steps, though, the entire platform shuddered. Glancing wildly about she realized that the orange muck had mixed with the water and created some kind of acid, which was eating away the supports. A growl of frustration escaped her, and she had the inexplicable urge to stomp her foot.

With a burst of strength she _threw_ Tim towards the open door, hoping it wouldn't hurt him _too_ badly. He came to rest a few feet from the opening, and she climbed up on the railing, preparing to catch one of the overhead pipes and swing herself over so that she lessened the weight on the platform. She propelled herself up and caught hold, but the pipe gave way…she found herself landing rather awkwardly just past the doorway.

There was a great shriek, a groaning of metal, and the walkway tore away from the wall. Cass lunged and managed to grab Tim just as he fell. The water-turned-acid had burned holes down below as well as eating the supports, draining the room…so at least she didn't have to worry about it eating _him_!

She dangled over the edge for a moment… one arm around Tim's neck, probably choking him, and her other hand grasping his arm. She heaved a deep breath, begging her muscles to perform _one_ more feat, and dragged him up and into the hallway. A crash below caught her attention and she glanced down again. The catwalk had collapsed on itself. Cass, feeling quite as drained as the causeway, collapsed back as well…leaning against the cool metal of the wall.

She felt the nearly overwhelming urge to close her eyes…now that all the excitement was over, the adrenaline rush ebbing, her head was beginning to throb again. What would it hurt? She could close her eyes for just a minute…just to regain some strength...after all, Batman could surely take care of Joker…._Batman_. The thought woke her faster than any stimulant could. Joker was out there! And Batman! She needed to _help _him! She scrambled to her feet wildly, intending to go find him. She took one step and stumbled over something, plummeting back to the floor.

"What the…?" She glanced over at the object that had tripped her up, her eyes widening in shock. Tim! How could she have forgotten? After everything she'd just gone through….after…after… she sat up, kneeling on the floor next to him, and sighed.

"Tim. Wake up!" she nudged him. Nothing. She glared at him. "Wake up _now!_" What was _wrong_ with him? She had done it…she had figured out the way out. She had gotten them out of the chamber and saved him from the acid. She had even read the right words on the panel. She had succeeded. Now it was time for him to "_Wake UP!_" She sat back, defeated. She had lost her belt, and her mask and cowl. She had no way to call for backup. And she was much too tired to try _carrying_ him _all_ the way back to…well, at least to a payphone…no, wait. She had no money either.

No to mention the fact that both of their faces, their 'secret identities', were exposed to anyone who might happen upon them. Cass felt a sting behind her eyes, and blinked, surprised to feel the moisture on her cheek. What was this? Tears? She never cried! Not when Cain shot her. Not when she had thought Batman had died. Not even when Stephanie _had_ died. So why…? She glanced down at Tim again. No. Of course not. He was just sleeping. But…he wouldn't wake up! _Stupid_ Tim. Stupid Cass…it must be a side effect from the headache and Joker trying to get in her head. Yes that was it! A side effect. Yet if that was really the cause, why did the thought that Tim may _never _wake fill her with such despair ?

* * *

"You sure you didn't take a right somewhere where you should have gone left?" Oracle's query was tinged with frustration and Nightwing bit his lip to keep the smile out of his tone.

"You mean zigged when I should have zagged?"

"Something like that." He grinned as her tone morphed to wry. He glanced around. He had been trekking for at least five minutes, and it felt as if he were walking in circles. Though Oracle had the floor plans pulled up on her computer, it seemed that the builders hadn't followed them very accurately.

"Well I have a suspicion that the freezers are right around…" an echo from deep within the building cut him off. He paused mid-step, looking back the way he'd come. There was a hollow clang somewhere and then a dull roar. Nightwing hadn't spent years as a crime-fighter and hero without developing a keen sense of danger…and it was _clearly_ warning him.

"Nightwing?" There was a hint of panic to her tone and he realized belatedly that he had broken off mid-sentence.

"Sorry, I heard something….I think…" he broke off _again_ as something told him he'd better move. The roaring was increasing, as if approaching. He executed a complicated back flip, managing to land on a support brace for an overhead walkway, just as what seemed to be thousands of gallons of water surged past beneath. He raised an eyebrow. That was…interesting.

"What's going on!" he could barely hear her over the noise of the flood.

"Hold on a sec!" The water was slowing, apparently reaching the end of its speedy exodus from... well, _wherever_ it came from. There were only a few puddles left now, and he sighed. "Sorry 'bout that. We just had a sudden…yikes!"

"What! What is it!" Nightwing pulled his foot back up to the safety of his perch. He had meant to descend and continue his search, but…

"It's _acid!_ I mean, really _strong_ acid! It's burning right through the floor!" He crouched there for a moment, watching with some kind of morbid fascination as the floor beneath him simply melted away.

"Acid? Do you think…"

"That our two absentees have been up to mischief?" he kept his tone even, not wanting to let on his fears... that if Batgirl and Robin _had_ been involved with the acid somehow, it was very likely that they weren't anymore...in the most sinister sense. Still…no reason to voice these thoughts aloud, so he finished, "let's hope so."

* * *

Cassandra heaved a sigh and fell back against the wall. Dropping her burden she slid down to a sitting position. She had been trekking through the halls of the abandoned factory for what seemed like hours…half-carrying, half-dragging Tim along after her. She wasn't sure what she'd do once they reached the outside, but she knew they couldn't just wait inside for someone to find them.

"You awake yet?" She had discovered a heretofore unknown talent for talking to herself in the last few minutes…hours…days….however long they'd been in here. Where she previously could live without _any_ words at all, she found herself unable to go more than a few minutes without talking to the unconscious body of Tim. And, as on all her previous attempts, there was no answer.

Cass looked ahead. There was a seemingly endless expanse of hall in front of her, with a junction far, _far_ away. She closed her eyes. Every time she stopped she felt the nearly overwhelming urge to go to sleep. But she couldn't do that…couldn't risk falling asleep forever like Tim.

"You _should_ be," she muttered at Tim, continuing her monologue. It really wasn't fair that _he_ got to sleep through all this, while _she_ had to drag his sorry…well, anyway, it wasn't _fair_. Cass thunked her head against the wall a few times, frustrated. _How_ could she get him to wake up? A brief image flashed into her mind of a "handsome prince" waking up the "beautiful princess" with a kiss….she ruthlessly shoved the thought from her head.

After all…what was she _thinking_! She didn't want to kiss Tim! … Did she? No, no….of _course _not. Though now that the idea had taken root it was becoming nearly impossible to dislodge. A little voice in the back of her head reminded her of the stories she'd been reading…about princes and happily ever afters.

And how she had been _wanting _to find a "prince".

_And_ how she had been spending so much time with Tim…and having fun with him….and fighting crime with him…and…and….well…she hadn't _really _ever kissed anyone. She could just…._no_. Stop it, Cass! But…that same little voice was _quite_ insistent…what _if_….wait a minute, just _what if_ it worked out like in the story? What if she could wake him up like the prince and the princess and…

"Cass?" the voice was soft…cracking as if it hadn't been used for days…months…years. She glanced down in shock.

"Tim! You woke up!" She was unable to quite restrain herself, giving him a rather tight squeeze.

"Oof. What the…?" Cass detached herself immediately…he could be hurt…he could still be under the influence of the Joker…he could…

"Are you ok?" That was it. Take the direct approach. She eyed him critically. He _seemed_ ok…and wasn't moving in any way to make her think Joker was still controlling him. Maybe being unconscious had gotten rid of Joker. Tim nodded, wincing. Looked like now _he_ had a headache too. She moved around so that she could help prop him up.

"I…"

"I found them!" Tim's reply was cut off by the appearance of Nightwing. He was jubilant, and, though he hid it well…just not from her…very relieved to have found them. Cass supposed that there had been a pretty bad uproar when they had disappeared like that.

"Joker?" Tim croaked the word out, still not quite recovered.

"No, Nightwing." Cass gave Nightwing a dirty look. _That's_ not what Tim had meant! But then again, Nightwing always had to be joking. He just shrugged at her glare and grinned. "Ok, ok. Yeah, we got 'im. He's on his way back to Arkham." He eyed the two younger vigilantes, anticipating their next questions. "And, _yes_, Batman's fine. I'm fine. Apparently _you're _fine…so everyone's fine!" Though there was a tone in his voice…a bit of a tightness in his stance…that warned Cass that everyone may _not_ be fine once they got back to the cave…and Batman.

"Ok." Cass felt Tim relax, and she looked down at him. He was unconscious again. Well, phooey. Nightwing didn't seem to concerned, though, so she figured that meant he knew how to fix everything.

"Here." He held something out to her and she reached for it warily. It was her utility belt. He also had Robin's, and his mask and even his shoes! She fastened it around her waist, feeling a bit more secure. Though she still had no mask. She tried to put Tim's mask back on him, but she got it on crooked. A smothered chuckle from behind her earned Nightwing another glare.

"You _could_ help, you know." He shrugged, but moved forward to help lift Tim from the ground.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I dunno." She shrugged. She could tell he was rolling his eyes at her under his mask, but she was too tired to retort. Nightwing took Tim…maybe he was back to being Robin, now that his mask was on…and kind of slung him over his shoulder. He started down the hallway, glancing back at her.

"Come on, let's go home."

* * *

To be continued... 


	26. Epilogue

**_Epilogue:_**

"Hey! Give it back!" Cass laughed as she did a flip over the couch in her apartment, the universal remote clutched firmly in her grasp. Tim lunged after her, but drew up short with a wince. "Not fair!" Cass grinned.

"Is too!"

"Is not! I'm not allowed to…" she rolled her eyes and mouthed the rest of his complaint along with him…it had become rather redundant over the past three days… "do any physical activity for two more days!" He made a face at her antics. She rolled her eyes again, but tossed him the remote. After all, the last few days _had_ been tough…for both of them.

Once they had reached the cave that night, Alfred had quickly set to work on Tim's medical needs. Batman had _really_ wanted to chastise them, but for some unknown reason…though she suspected it had to do with Alfred warning him beforehand…not to mention Tim's unconscious status…he had refrained…for a while. While _they_ had been fighting each other and the water and everything else in the factory, _he_ had defeated Joker (with Nightwing's help, of course), returned him to Arkham, discovered that all the "zombies" had awoken about the time the old cannery had gone up in flames. And, just like Tim, they had all fallen unconscious…again. But reviving them had been only a matter of time and stimulants…not a big deal.

Still, once Tim was fully cognizant again they were _both_ banned from their nighttime activities for _three_ weeks, given extra training sessions and workouts, and basically threatened within an inch of their lives should they _ever _pull such a stunt again. Though their names were never mentioned, Cass could see the thoughts of Stephanie and Jason running through his mind as he meted out their punishments, so she didn't feel _too_ rebellious about all the restrictions. She knew they had had a _very_ narrow escape…and a little bit of time off could be nice….well, it _could_…for someone who, unlike her, had a life outside of work.

"Hey, do you have any more popcorn?" Then again…she smiled. She could learn to like having a "life outside of work". Tim had an extra restriction placed on him…his unconscious state and time under the influence of the Joker had left him with a killer migraine. And if one thought _Batman_ was tough when it came to punishment and enforcing edicts, it was _nothing _compared to Alfred. Tim was under _strict_ orders not to do _any_ strenuous activity for a week. While it was true that he seemed fine, action _did _seem to exacerbate his headache…meaning Cass could pull stunts like stealing the remote without fear of retribution.

"No."

"What? Cass! This is a _movie_ night! You can't have movies without popcorn!" She shrugged casually, hiding her amusement at his dismay.

"I _had_ popcorn. You ate it all." He blinked at her, stumped.

"But…but…you only had _one_ bag!" She laughed, and held out her hand. He looked at it as if it were a foreign object.

"C'mon, c'mon…pay up!" He raised an eyebrow.

"Pay? For what?"

"Pizza." He rolled his eyes. Of course. Ever since he'd come over that first night she seemed to associate pizza with movies…pizza. Not popcorn. Not candy. Pizza. He pulled out some cash and threw it at her in mock irritation. She simply grinned and picked up the scattered bills, heading towards the kitchen, and the phone within it, to place the order.

Tim watched her surreptitiously. Neither of them had spoken of _that night_. It _seemed _that she was more than willing to put it behind her. But he had _been_ there! He _knew_ what he had done…what thoughts had been running through one part of his mind even as the other part struggled against them. He had tried to _kill_ her! A far cry from the thoughts he _had_ been thinking back when…well, that was…that…that had just been Dick putting ideas in his head. Right?

"You like olives?" His musings were interrupted by Cass, phone in hand, staring at him inquiringly. He gave a kind of weak smile, cursing, not for the first time, the fact that Cass could know all his thoughts if she wanted to.

"Um, no. Not really. Uhh, pepperoni. Onions. Cheese."

"Ok." She turned away, apparently oblivious to his discomfort. He slouched back on the couch, frustrated. Within a few minutes she returned, carrying a bucket of ice, two glasses, and a two-liter of soda.

"You need any help with…"

"Nope." Ok, so much for _that_ idea. She set them on the table and plopped down on the couch next to him. "Pizza'll be about thirty minutes." He nodded, feeling awkward all of the sudden. Cass reached over to the stack of movies, pulling a few out. "Ok…here, you pick the first one." He took them from her, glancing down.

"Um…Princess Bride? Ever After? Sleeping Beauty?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What?"

"Um…well, I guess I just never figured you for a 'chick flick' type of girl…I mean…well, these are all fairy tales!" She smiled wryly.

"Cinderella?" she countered, reminding him of the movie he'd brought over before. "Never figured you for a 'chick flick' type of guy." He gaped at her for a second. Why was it he constantly forgot her sense of humor? "Besides…I _know _fairy tales…I read them all!" He grinned at her proud, slightly challenging tone. She sure _had_ read them all...and a stack of books piled on the nightstand next to her bed testified to that accomplishment.

"No, really, what about one of these?" he held up a few action movies he had brought with him and she reached over to examine them. She held one up, a look of disbelief on her face.

"C'mon! A guy with the 'powers' of a spider? What kind of people believe this stuff?"

"Er…well, it's a _fictional_ movie, first of all, so no one 'believes' it…and secondly I am personally acquainted with, as are you, any number of people with stranger powers than that! Why, Beast Boy has the powers of _all_ the animals, let alone just a spider!" She laughed and he rolled his eyes, realizing he'd been had…again. He groaned, and sat back, waving a careless hand in her direction. "Fine, _you_ pick something." She looked through the collection and picked out an action comedy, sliding it into the DVD player.

"Should we wait for the pizza?" She glanced back at him, her hand hovering over the _play_ button. He shrugged, closing his eyes…completely missing the mischievous look she threw at him. "Unless you wanted some…popcorn?" His eyes popped open.

"You said you didn't have any more!"

"I lied." He threw a pillow at her and she ducked, giggling, and threw it back. The scuffle didn't last long…Tim wasn't really supposed to exert himself and the pizza arrived…and soon they were settled back on the couch pizza, popcorn, drinks…and Alfred's homemade cookies spread out around them.

Cass started the movie and leaned back into the soft cushions. She wasn't willing to admit aloud the thoughts that had run through her head while Tim had been unconscious. She peeked out the side of her eye at him. He seemed…tense. She had noticed it all evening. And for once she wasn't sure what it was he was tense about. She hoped it wasn't her fault…maybe he just didn't like being cooped up instead of being Robin. Or maybe he was still having trouble with his dad….or something.

"Hey, pass the pizza, willya?" She complied, silently, still watching him covertly. As she passed him the box, their hands brushed and she was startled to feel a bit of heat stealing into her cheeks. What was _more_ intriguing, though, was that a matching redness was creeping over Tim's face as well! She blinked. Was…was that…? It _was_! He was feeling tense and awkward for the same reasons _she_ was…or so she thought.

Deciding to test her theory, she leaned back into the couch, relaxing from where she had straightened to reach the food. But this time she settled in a little closer to Tim, earning her a suspicious glance from his direction. Swallowing a smile she rearranged herself, as if the couch were lumpy, managing to squeeze a few more inches off the distance between them.

"Umm, everything ok?" She blinked back at him innocently.

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" He shrugged, still eyeing her warily. She stifled a sigh. Maybe she had read him wrong. But as the movie progressed, she noticed that he was taking his _own_ turns shifting…moving closer to her too! As the movie came to a climax she decided it was as good a time as any to be daring. Drawing a steadying breath she slid her hand over towards his…stopping mere millimeters from his hand… not quite daring enough to take hold of it.

He glanced at her, and at their hands, and she noticed a twitch at the corner of his mouth. The little brat! He was _laughing_ at her! Feeling not a little humiliated, and sure she had interpreted _everything_ wrong, she started to pull her hand back, but found that it was stuck…in _his_ hand! She blinked down at their intertwined fingers, surprised at the way such a simple gesture made her feel. She swallowed, suddenly nervous again.

"I…" she wasn't sure what she wanted to say, but surely she couldn't let this moment pass unnoticed!

"Shhh. It's just getting to the good part!" She stared at him for a second, dumbfounded, then smiled. She relaxed, leaning slightly against him. Tomorrow may bring strife again, but tonight….tonight was magic…just like a fairy tale. After all, who said there were no such things as "happily-ever-afters" in real life?

_**Fin**_

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Author's Note:

Yes... I know, I know! You all want to come after me with rotten produce, torches, and pitchforks. How _could_ I finish the story _without_ a kiss?Well, just remember what mama said, "you can't hurry love...you just have to wait!" So, be patient...it'll happen!

Thank you everyone who reviewed and read and (hopefully) enjoyed this story! You've all kept me going. Thanks!


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